Release The Hounds
by thievesfire
Summary: Sequel to My Little Friend. Second of the Dog Soldiers Arc: Reunited at last, the Shield have no where to hide. With no choice but to ally with enemies, the survival of the hounds is in the hands of the people they've fought. To win a war, you need soldiers. The Authority are closing in, and time is running out...
1. Rats Of My Own

**((Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the very first upload of the newest chapter in the Shield's story, _Release The Hounds_! This is the sequel to _My Little Friend_. It's been absolutely incredible how much support I've received. All of your comments have really inspired me to do well and to carry on the story. The AU world that the story takes place in is all of my own creation and it's been fantastic to see how well people have responded to my versions of our well known and well loved characters. For those who have just stumbled upon this story, I recommend that you go back and read _My Little Friend_ , otherwise much of this chapter will not make sense to you. For all those reading this, new and old, welcome. I hope you enjoy this newest part of the **_**Dog Soldiers**_ **Arc! Please, as always let me know what you think!))**

 **((If you're new to the** _ **Dog Soldiers**_ **Arc, you can find the first part,** _ **My Little Friend**_ **here :** **s/11605179/1/Release-The-Hounds))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 **|| BUCHANAN** North Capitol

A pitcher of blood poured along the horizon and rallied the dawn after the coldest of desert nights. Who would have thought that a boiled day could give to such frozen nights? And yet at the heart, the bodies below ground beat as one. They laid out together, arms clutched round one another for warmth. There had been initial objections, quickly cut down by experience and necessary comparisons to the emperor penguins in Antarctic. Though none had ever seen such beasts and did not know of their actual existence, those with some educated knowledge had enough in their skulls to cut down argument and forced upon them all warmth induced from group hugging. Needless to say, it wasn't popular.

But there – the sunrise.

They stood together, watched as it bled out into the sky, bleeding it pink and gold, mottled orange and red. There were not words that could be said, because even though the feeling seemed mutual, they knew that within time, they would become separated once again, and anything that was inside of them, could end in a gun shot. Wounds had already begun to heal and soon they would all be the soldiers they once were, rather than the broken men who had arrived in fragments in the burned out shanty of Buchanan. The pain was too real and she could feel it in the way he held her hand. His fingers held on, squeezed too tight, like he was too afraid to let go of her, in case she faded away with the last of the night. But she would linger, and she would travel with them until the end, because she knew, she knew inside and out, that her end would be with them. Whether she lived or died didn't seem to matter, survival a mere accessory to what had to be achieved. She had been dragged along on this thrill ride, had her lungs filled with adrenaline and yet nothing had come, other than the brief happiness of a small group of humans.

She saw that sun, reflected against his perfect face and fixed upon him, tried to capture the still frame in her mind, so that when he inevitably left her behind, she could remember him, caught in this static memory. She could have cried and it wouldn't have changed a single thing. She'd not let a single tear loose since he'd found her, they'd found them, brothers united...but every minute that passed threatened to tear the salt loose from her eyes. Renee Young was but a human woman, and then and there, she felt as if she were bonded to a god.

Roman saw himself as nothing more than flesh and blood – and that was what he was. But she'd elevated him to more than a man.

' **Will you take the throne Roman? When the Game is gone?** ' she almost had to know the answer, as if whatever he decided would become their outcome. She'd learned from the second she'd walked into the boys' lives that nothing was written in stone. Everything was tangible, and the decisions of the many molded the futures of them all. But that was fine with her. She could live a life uncontrolled because it was far more exciting than delivering steak to tables of disinterested customers on rainy nights in _Mama's_. She still had that yellow dress stowed away somewhere – hadn't the heart to leave it behind when they'd escaped her home and decided to head toward Buchanan.

She almost felt stupid for how she'd phrased it: _throne_ , like it was some medieval battle they were about to fight. Hunter Hearst Helmsley had ruled over Kennedy, its fellow towns and cities, the _whole_ state for so damn long it was hard not to see him as anything more or less than a tyrant on a crooked throne with a crooked crown. But she knew so little of it all; relied on the stories she was told to shape her opinion. She'd been bred for war in the few days she'd known the Shield, simply because of the words they'd said, and the condition they'd found her in.

In the past few days and nights, she'd worked magic fingers over the bodies of Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose. She'd been careful with the first, and cradled the latter, as his tears of rage over the death of Mick Foley threatened to tear him apart. Of them all, Dean had lost the most. A woman who had loved him had suffered death at the hands of a maniac, he'd lost pieces of his mind, body and soul to a cult leader, and now, an ally had been plucked from the world at the hands of a viper, who'd been trusted with all their lives. Her life had been so marvelously simple and dull before all of this had begun.

It had been more than a week before she'd met Roman Reigns.

She looked to him now, with his long, matted hair she'd tried to comb through with her fingers, his scarred and clandestine features – too bold, too beautiful to be touched by any other than the few he seemed to trust. He could have been a Spartan, but was far too stoic. He could have been a warrior, but his conscience seemed too strong. Through and through, Roman Reigns was little more than a man. A man loved by his brothers, and by her brittle heart. Renee could neither confirm or deny her feelings to him, her tongue failed each time she tried, too afraid of dismissal, too dumb and stupid to even pick the words.

' **Someone will have to,** ' he muttered in answer. She knew he didn't want it. You could see it, hear it, and _feel_ it. Roman was a mercenary, a citizen soldier, who had been paid and who had paid heavily for sins he didn't want to relive. She understood it, but found it difficult to conceive. She'd seen the Shield at their worst and best, but hadn't known their days as the villains of the story. The living torture they marched through with burned feet and buckled backs was ash off her back, but scolded into their empty eyes.

Renee squeezed his hand tightly with both of hers, ' **You don't have to Roman. There are others...they could do it. You could be free from the responsibility, you and Seth and Dean could run away, you could do what you wanted...be free men.** '

' **What a dream that could be,** ' he almost laughed, and gave her the benefit of a glance. His other hand moved up, damaged, but almost healed, touched her face, ran down to her chin and tilted it. ' **I have not dreamed for years Renee.** '

She shook her head, and his fingers, away. ' **Everyone dreams Roman, even when they don't close their eyes. Your dreams might just be darker than everyone elses.** '

' **Full of murder and lies and pain and fear?** '

' **Well when you put it that way they don't sound like dreams at all. No wonder you have the sweats Rome, what goes on in your head sounds terrifying.** '

A dark laugh, ' **You should see what goes on inside Dean's.** '

Dean Ambrose, a lunatic self-diagnosed as sane with a generous sprinkling of mania. He was the sweetest, most sugary of her three boys, a little brother in an older body. He came to her for motherly embraces and the last few crumbs of the cookies she'd baked weeks before. He loved how she stroked his head, adored how she took the piss, kissed her nails one by one and declared her the last of the fallen stars and a true angel, because he'd never seen anyone shine so bright. He could have won her over if he'd tried those lines before that fateful night in the diner. She remembered every single second in vivid Technicolor. If she thought hard, she could recall the very moment she fell in love with Roman Reigns.

' **Roman?** '

' **Renee?** '

' **Will you kiss me?** '

She'd grown bold. He wanted to, she could see it in those ember eyes, but he resisted. He knew that the moment he gave in to the passions they both felt burning, there was no going back. She'd follow him to hell and back anyway, but if he took her, body and soul, she'd fight until she was naught but a pair of hands and a few strands of hair. ' **Please?** '

He drew closer, his mouth, those lips blisteringly close –

' **Morning ladies, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.** '

She was pretty sure, that if the Shield had their way, Dolph Ziggler would have been strung up by his toes in the middle of the Buchanan sun. He'd proved little more than trouble since he'd joined their group back at her small home in Adams. Sure, he'd saved her skin (and that appeared to have earned him enough of a reprieve to be spared punishment for nearly getting them killed), but he seemed to distrust everyone in their company, save for herself and Brie. But right then and there? She felt the irrational urge to kill the blond bastard.

The hide he emerged from was an underground burrow created by their hosts, the bizarre Rhodes brothers. They were nowhere to be seen. Their habit of scouring their territory in the early morning sun, as if they might uncover some new life, was one of hope to Renee. They always upheld that if they had survived so long, scarred and half blind, then the chances were in the favor of some other. Dolph was a curious looking human in his own right, with curled, shoulder length blond hair, he had a penchant for denim and leather, and looked nothing like the freedom fighter he claimed to be. When it had all begun, her hair had been a little more like his, but now? Thanks to the Bella twins, her beautiful hair had been reduced to a boyish crew cut. She liked it now, and Brie had won her way into their good books. She ran her fingers through the bristles in frustration as Dolph came closer.

' **You pick your moments Ziggler,** ' she muttered.

He almost looked pleased at his interference, and she wouldn't have put it past him that it was done entirely on purpose. ' **Brie requested I check on you.** '

' **Did she now?** ' highly unlikely. Brie seemed to have been campaigning for Renee's sexual liberation ever since they'd met. From trying to talk her into having sex with Seth, to now prompting her every single second Roman seemed to be alone. It made her heart judder, just the thought. What she felt seemed so strong, the desire in her heart, gut and loins was enough to set her bones on fire just being near him. She couldn't explain it, didn't know if she wanted to. But the second Roman had shuffled into her life, soaked wet from the storm, raw with violence and hell of life on the run...he'd never left her thoughts. Even in the life or death moments, she'd thought of him. He squeezed her hand gently. A man of few words, she'd learned quickly to translate his simple gestures and actions for the hours of language he wanted to communicate. Wide-eyed and innocent, she lived for the seconds he dedicated to her. Pathetic? Perhaps – she had a feeling Dolph saw it that way.

' **Indeed. You look to be safe enough. Do I need to intervene? Has he been inappropriately touching you? Do I need to inform the Renee Young Defense League that a certain Mr Reigns has dark, sexual intentions?** '

' **Any he has, Ziggler, are not your interest, and if you savor breathing, you'll retreat your crooked nose back into the hole you crawled from.** ' Roman didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. With a glare and that strange duck like pout he'd mastered, Dolph did as was suggested to him. As soon as he was gone, Roman gave Renee a small smile, it was off-center, a turn of the corner of his mouth, but it was there. After a second of trying it out, he switched to the other side of his lip. Facial movement had proved difficult for him as of late, his encounter with _the Beast_ Brock Lesnar had broken his body more than they could actually see. One of Lesnar's blows seemed to have damaged some of Roman's facial nerves. But he dealt, he didn't complain, just tried everything out, practiced each expression until it became second nature once again – smiling was proving difficult, but determined, he seemed to gift them to her every time he could.

' **Love birds!** '

A new, beloved nuisance; Dean's head popped up from the same shelter Ziggler had disappeared in to. He emerged half naked, an old pair of black boxers all that protected his milk bottle white skin from the elements. All Dean had ever known was the underground and the dark, wet streets of Kennedy. He couldn't quite deal with the Buchanan heat, but was infatuated with the sun, and had already proposed to it, at length, several times. He was still awaiting an answer. His love for the sun was only matched by that of his brothers, and of the stars.

She'd seen him, standing out in the middle of the night for hours, staring up at the starry sky, fascinated, eyes wet and body cold. AJ Lee was buried under a patch of starlight – the woman who'd tamed the wild Dean Ambrose, who'd loved him in ways no one could ever understand. They'd all lost things along the way but her sympathies were with the devil in Dean's eyes and heart and twisted little mind.

' **Missing some clothes Dean?** '

' **Need new ones,** ' he grunted in response. The torn scrubs he'd come to them in were beyond repair and beyond help. Unless God had a seamstress handy, he most definitely needed something else. For the few days before, he'd been walking around in one of Renee's old jumper dresses which only just reached his knees. Too hot for him though, naked seemed the way to go. Almost as soon as he stood on the warm sand, he shed the underwear and began to roam, free buttock and bollock. ' **Been lookin' but can't find none. You seen anythin' in Ambrose's size love birds?** '

' **Dean? I can see your balls man,** ' Rome shook his head.

' **Ya can?** ' Dean looked down and carefully cupped his privates. ' **That better bro?** '

' **Define better,** ' but he gave his friend the benefit of a nod as Dean went off, no doubt to scavenge a grave. ' **Maybe we should direct him to Batista.** '

Renee wrinkled her nose.

 _The Animal_ as Batista had been known was buried in a shallow grave. Seth hadn't meant to kill him, Renee had begged him not to, but internal bleeding and the baking sun had claimed him. He'd been good as dead the second he'd challenged Seth. Renee, was so proud of him. Whilst she was close to Brie, the Bella with assassin hands and a razor mouth, she sincerely viewed Seth as her own brother. Her best friend...she loved him in a way that freed and confused her. He'd been gentle, told her that she belonged with Roman, but Seth had shown her more passion, more...everything. Roman seemed to need time before he could let himself even kiss her...and how she yearned for that mouth on hers.

' **Think his clothes might be a bit big Rome.** '

' **Better than his current outfit,** '

Well she couldn't disagree with that. Together, they watched the sun rise on Dean's bare ass. He found a boot, then another, slightly different, and scooted through the sands, picked at the bones of every carcass he came across. In his own time he'd find his way to the grave of Batista. At least then, he'd find some decent clothes. They could only hope. ' **Maybe he'll come up with a new nickname for us along the way.** '

' **Not feeling love birds?** '

She didn't receive an answer there. It was lucky she was a patient woman. Others who'd endured less would already have run into the arms of Seth, where he was ready and willing. Rome seemed willing...just not quite ready. But that was alright...for now. She could cope...for now. It was just...sometimes he looked at her and she could feel her ovaries throb.

' **How about Romee?** '

' **Romee?** '

' **Yeah! You know, when people put together their names to make an adorable nickname for themselves?** ' Only after the words had left her mouth did she regret them.

' **Romee?** '

' **Well, I don't think Remon sound as nice.** '

He chuckled at that. There! That smile, limp in the middle, but there on the outskirts. Worth the wait.

' **You, Miss Young, are a fool.** '

' **Well, I've been called worse.** '

' **You have?** '

' **In school they used to call me Bananarama Blondie.** '

He liked that too, and turned to face her completely, eyes off his unbalanced brother for a while, focused on her. His hand turned up, gentle to cup her face, it slid down her neck to her shoulder and left a trail of goosebumps.

 _Just kiss me already..._

' **Hounds! Hounds! The gates of hell are open! The devils are spewing out into the celestial dawn! They come with blinding lights! With bodies of dust and ice!** '

They parted too fast.

' **Seth!** '

The demand carried the writhe body of Rollins out of the sand and into the open, quickly flanked by the young woman who seemed to be his shadow, Brie Bella. They worked too well together, she would have made an excellent thief, and he a fantastic assassin. Renee had seen them battle, and it had terrified her. Even Dean responded to the shouts. The Rhodes brothers couldn't be seen, but their warning was spiked with terror. The earth beneath their feet seemed to shift; the heavy heartbeat of Buchanan broke with breath and life. They'd fallen so far down that they hid beneath in a shack of wood and cement and tin. She could see the network of veins and liver spots over the landscape.

And there!

There it was. A convoy, matte black in the early heart; she saw the vehicles sweat, sent off spiral and shimmers in the air. Not safe. This wasn't safe. Nowhere to run, less in which to hide. Who could it be? What enemy could fall on them now? So many had crowded them and been kicked down into the eternal pit of hell.

Dean pulled his boxers back on, took the torn pants offered to him, clearly salvaged from Batista's grave. Dolph crawled up too, and together they stood, few weapons between them. Only one of their group, save for the Rhodes brothers, stood away, watched over from a distance. Evil wore black, they all knew so, so why their own wardrobe mirrored that of the enemy was unclear and uncanny. Renee had felt herself slip from the light into the shadow a little too often. She liked it too much, as much as the studded gloves forever stapled round her hands and wrists; a gift from Dean who'd worn them before her, and showed her how to make the most out of _Dirty Deeds_.

She didn't recognize the men who clambered out of the vans and trucks. She saw the guns and the knives. She saw the determination steeled in their eyes because of the sacred dollar bill, and thought of the Game, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, a man who she'd never met, loathed by all, and she felt sorry for him. The thirty men she counted wouldn't survive until the end of the morning. She didn't need the protection of the men who surrounded her, of the woman who came to stand by her side. She didn't have their training, she didn't have their experience.

She wasn't afraid, but the Authority was.

 _Ten Minutes Later_

* * *

' **Renee? You got a little something, right there.** ' Dean licked his thumb and smudged away the blood from her cheek. His breath smelled rancid and she nearly gagged.

' **Thanks Dean.** '

He looked rather pleased with himself. He was covered from head to toe in blood, and stolen from one of the bodies at his feet; he lit himself a cigarette, took a deep drag and expelled the smoke into the already toxic air. Nearby, Brie, Dolph and Roman shifted sand for graves. Renee had not killed. That fell to the others; it seemed Dolph didn't have the stomach for it either. They'd fought, but the Shield and a lone Bella had made corpses of them all. It surprised her, and worried her, how little she felt for the nameless men who disappeared beneath the dust. They'd had identities, maybe families, personalities, motives, dreams...reasons for coming to Buchanan to deliver the Shield and friends to the Authority in coffins or chains.

' **Nothing like a lil' mornin' exercise, right Seth?** ' Dean said with mouth half-full from the cigarette.

Seth was away from the others, inspecting one of the trucks which had arrived. Around his waist, stapled tight and bent by nails and Roman's strength, was that Kennedy title. Roman couldn't carry it, detested its weight and what it meant. His brothers encouraged him, told him they believed in what he could do, but he disliked the thought, didn't want the responsibility. It occurred to Renee, that there were secrets behind the eyes of Roman Reigns; reasons he did everything to protect his brothers...and didn't want, couldn't deal with the blood of the people he loved. Something had happened to him...she could sense it. They caught eyes a moment before she bent down to help Dean pick up another body. He was young, in his mid twenties. Around his neck were dog tags. Before she hooked his hands, she bent down, knees in the sand and reached out. Her fingers closed around the silver and lifted them over his head, brought the tags to her eye line.

' **Tyson Kidd.** '

Dean, who'd been about to lift the body by its ankles, dropped them.

' **We're in trouble.** ' He turned on the spot. ' **Check the tags! Check all the tags!** '

Each set brought back a dark cloud. It hung heavier over each head until it felt as if they were about to compress into their necks. Renee didn't recognize a single one, but the others did. They'd been the law and on the run from it their whole lives long. They knew the names of cops when they heard them. Every single one of them, were legitimate, badge carrying blues. Renee's head pounded, the elation of surviving another fight quickly turning into fear.

' **What have we done?** '

Dean didn't have an answer for her. ' **Quickly,** ' he started to drag the body down into one of the makeshift graves. The urgency didn't strike her until she saw a figure coming through the heat. That bear like man who'd helped to bring the brothers back together, who'd somehow kept them safe, even when they'd tied him to a tree. John Cena, the most loyal cop Kennedy had ever produced...he couldn't see this. Deception wasn't in her blood, and Dean dragged her feet first. He threw sand fast over the body of Tyson Kidd. The last few corpses were buried among the bones and tin before Cena was close enough to see, and the dog tags that dangled from Renee's hand, were quickly thrown over her neck and stuffed into her shirt, away from view, but sneeringly close to her heart. Already they weighed her down...the guilt...

' **Dean -,** '

' **Don't you say a word to him Renee. You hear me girl? You can't tell 'im nothin'. We need Cena on side. Can't have 'im thinkin' we're cop killers.** '

But they were, unintentionally, mistakenly, cop killers.

A large, rough hand met the small of her back, Roman. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. Cena drew closer, and she thought the volume of her heartbeat would give her away. Roman slipped his hand up beneath her shirt, skin on skin, rubbed gently, to keep her calm, keep her quiet. There was no disguising something had taken place. Each and every one of them was splattered in righteous blood. The Game had played them. He'd made thirty martyrs at the hands of wanted men. No where would be safe...nowhere at all...

' **Hey – the roads are clear – what on earth happened here?** '

Cena was a big man, but not too bright.

' **Brie and Renee are on the rag.** '

Both women turned and looked at Ziggler in complete and utter horror. She felt her face burn bright red and it had nothing to do with the incoming sun. Brie's face was a murder mask.

' **Sounds...messy.** ' It was clear that he didn't believe them. ' **But not messy enough. Wanna tell a man what fun happened whilst he was being a responsible adult?** '

' **We were attacked.** ' Seth this time, all matter-of-fact, ' **They shot me, we retaliated.** '

' **What?** ' Renee couldn't suppress it. Now that she looked, she could see the scrape along Seth's right arm. He'd been lucky, it could have been so much worse. She could stitch that shut if given the time. She saw Cena's eyebrows rise.

' **Hm.** '

The big man wasn't convinced and Renee found her lungs near crippled by holding in the truth. The truth? Seth hadn't lied. He'd told the truth, save for the vital evidence which hung around Renee's neck.

' **You guys alright? Miss Renee? Miss Brie?** '

' **We're fine John, thank you.** ' Brie walked up to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. Cena always seemed to find contact with her strange (probably something to do with the fact he'd had a curious relationship with Brie's identical twin sister Nikki); he flinched but nodded at her, ever the gentleman.

' **What have you done with the bodies?** '

' **Buried them,** ' as Brie said it, Dean was busy. He'd gathered up shards of tin and moved to each shallow bump in the sand to mark the graves. Giving respect to the men they'd murdered. Good men? Lord only knew how many good men the Shield had killed over the years – the murderous past they tried to atone for and leave behind had been dragged bloody and screaming to the present. The Game wanted to screw with them, fuck their brains. She could already feel hers twist. She'd not killed, but the blood was still on her hands. ' **We thought they at least deserved that.** '

' **Any man, good or evil, deserves a burial.** ' Cena said. He always stood so straight. He would have made a fine military man. Roman seemed to think so too. There was an odd amount of respect between the two. They didn't say much to one another, communicated more with nods and shakes of the head. It worked for them. ' **I'm impressed, must be...twenty five or more,** ' he said after quickly counting them, pointing to each marker that Dean pressed down into the sand with his wrong-sized boot.

Quite suddenly, an odd noise caught their attention, like static. It fuzzed in Renee's ears and she squinted against the bright light of the new day, toward the source.

' **What's that?** '

The convoy. Before Cena had a chance, Ziggler dashed over to where the lead car sat. 'C.B,' he shouted. Seth caught up with him and shoved him aside. They gathered around the open door of the black vehicle. Seth activated the C.B.

' _Has it been done_?'

Renee didn't recognize the voice, but the Shield brothers did. Roman snatched the C.B from Seth's hand and held it up to his mouth.

' **Cesaro, you're going to have to do better than that.** '

Cesaro? Mr Cesaro? The man who'd tried to use her as a bargaining chip in _Mama's_. The man whose face she'd smashed in with the silver tea carrier. That Mr Cesaro? In a childish way she thought he'd been defeated, that he'd disappeared from the story entirely. But of course he hadn't. What they were doing, experiencing, it wasn't a children's book with a thousand and one tales ending happily. She clutched Roman's arm, her fingertips dug deep but he didn't seem to notice.

' _Ah Mr Reigns, what a pleasant surprise_ ,' the Swiss man didn't sound at all surprised. And why should he? The Authority had known all along what would happen. ' _I can see you all survived. Very well done_.'

 _He can see us_? Renee mouthed to Brie. The Bella twin narrowed her eyes and slipped from the group.

' **Just what are you trying to achieve Cesaro? What's the Game playing at? You think that all you need to do to stop us is send every man on your payroll?** '

Cesaro sounded amused, ' _How's your face Reigns? It seems Mr Lesnar struck a nerve. You don't seem as animated as you used to._ '

Dean, apparently bored of Cesaro, snatched the C.B from Roman, ' **You want animated you bald headed biscuit? Why don't you show your face? I'll show you how fuckin' animated we can be.** '

 _Biscuit?_ Did he seriously just call him a biscuit?

Brie appeared around the other side of the car, through the open door, and raised her hands to the roof. She felt along the ridges slowly, cautiously. What was she looking for? A camera? Roman grabbed the C.B back and shook his head in wonder at Dean.

' _Whilst that sounds wonderful, I must decline. But Mr Ambrose, I fear I must let you know that your Mullah Queen will be very sad at today's events. I do not think she will approach you with as much courtesy as you have been previously shown. It is a shame. But you have all proven strong opponents; I would dearly love to have you all compete in the KOW arena. Especially you – Miss Young, you have done well to survive as long as you have._ '

The mere mention of her name filled her with dread. She'd almost assumed that she was anonymous to the Authority, that she could pass unknown, without threat should it be needed. But no, of course not, Cesaro not only knew her name but her face. He could pick her out a mile off, especially now, if he had them on camera –

There was a spark, and out the corner of her eye, Renee saw as Brie tugged something small, round and black, like a beetle from the car roof. She twisted it round and then, flexed her fingers. It gave way and smashed.

' _Well that's inconvenient. But I know I have your attention._ '

' **And what exactly do you want with it?** '

' _I have a proposal for you, Roman Reigns and friends. One which I believe that you will find most interesting, and very difficult to refuse._ '

' **I doubt that Cesaro.** '

' _I have located your Yes Movement._ '

Silence descended. Brie's eyes widened, fear penetrated every pore. Their eyes flecked from one to another, each and every one of them felt it. If they found the Yes Movement, if they cornered them, it would be a massacre. Slowly, each one looked out to the sea of shallow graves. Clever Cesaro, he knew the guilt in their guts at the slaughter of the cops, and how could they let it happen again? He had them pushed into a corner.

' _It would be very easy for me to dispose of them, especially now Mr Lesnar roams their halls. But I think we can help each other Mr Reigns._ '

' **Last time you said that to me I ended up fighting for my life.** '

' _No different to your usual day._ ' Cesaro dismissed. ' _I have grown tired, Mr Reigns of the Game and his high and mighty ways. He pushes us and demands of us and gives no reward. The disposal of Lesnar and the death of Paul Heyman only increased his maltreatment of myself and the arena. I will not let my life's work crumble under the heel of a tyrant._ '

' **You made your grave Cesaro,** '

' _And you have made many more Reigns._ '

Roman closed his eyes, cut loose a sigh that could have blown away every grain of sand. ' **What do you have in mind?** '

' _A lesser of two evils, Reigns; I do not crave power or control, I simply want to run my arena in peace. I will help you to your throne, if you will help me take back the KOW arena. It's been taken from my grasp and placed in the hands of an upstart, and I will not tolerate that. He's strong, he's smart, I challenged him and I have failed. He has a whole colony of rats at his disposal and I am outnumbered. Your Yes Movement will be safe if you help me, and I will ally with you. The Game perhaps will suspect me, but I have significant use and many connections. I can be very useful to you all_.'

Dean had clambered up onto Roman's back. He clung there like a mangy koala; his face was withdrawn, as if he'd been kept away from everything good in the world.

' **I have rats of my own,** ' he mused into Roman's ear, his personal devil. ' **I can get into that arena. I can take on his problem. I like problems.** ' He seemed far too enthusiastic, but then Renee remembered that Seth told her Dean used to compete frequently in the underground ring. Maybe he missed the kick he got from it, maybe it was just Dean. The simple idea of bloodshed and violence seemed to excite him.

' **Who's the man?** ' Roman asked.

' _He goes by the name of Kevin Owens_.'

Dean near sent Roman flying as he scrambled over the front of him to snatch the C.B once more, ' **HE'S MINE CESARO. MINE. CALL IT. PUT IT ON BANNERS, TEAR UP THE STREETS. TELL THE KOW AMBROSE IS COMIN' HOME.** '

' **Old friend of yours Dean?** ' Renee mused quietly. He turned and shot her such a glare she shrank three inches into the crook of Roman's arm.

' _I must say I do like your enthusiasm Mr Ambrose. We have missed it. This will not be easy. To return to Kennedy will be difficult.'_

' **A certain snake in the grass will have taken the underground trails. If we could follow him, we could get back into the city. But the chances are he'll have delivered our message to Bryan before we even get half way; the Movement will head to Buchanan.** ' Roman muttered and covered the C.B with a massive hand. ' **We might miss each other completely.** '

' **We could go in by road, the few of us who aren't as high on the hit list,** ' Renee suggested. ' **We could smuggle you in somehow.** '

Roman shook his head, ' **Too dangerous. You're known to them now, and Nikki will have reported Brie to the Authority.** '

' **There has to be another way.** '

But she was greeted by shaking heads. Above ground they'd be seen, below, they risked missing the Movement completely.

' **Is there any way we can contact Orton?** '

' **He had a phone.** ' Renee pointed out. They all turned and stared at her. ' **He had it in the pocket of his jacket – I spotted it when I was piggy backing him.** ' she fished into her jeans and pulled out her own mobile. ' **If anyone knows his number, speak now or forever hold your peace.** '

' **We could just chance it,** ' Ziggler suggested. Clearly he still wasn't head over heels in love with the idea of trusting Orton with anything slightly important.

It was Dean's turn to shake his head, ' **I know the catacombs good, but no one knows them better than Randy Orton. He can get us through them and into Kennedy...** '

' _May I suggest something?_ '

' **What?** '

' _Avoid Kennedy for now. I have arenas in the other cities, Owens now runs them all, but if I get the word out and spread of Mr Ambrose wanting to fight him, it'll draw notice, one hell of a crowd, maybe even the Game will attend. If we build up Ambrose in smaller fights, Owens won't be able to ignore him._ '

' **You want us to send Dean to you?** ' Roman looked like he wanted to slap the C.B, ' **Do you think we're idiots Cesaro? We've only just found our way back to each other. There's no way we're splitting up now.** '

' _If Mr Ambrose works with me, it'll draw attention away from Kennedy. You'll find it easier to infiltrate it. You'll have to win over the people of the city. Most are terrified of the Authority. There are a few people who will be able to help you enter the strong hold, will act as soldiers for you if you give them reason to fight by your side. You wronged many as the Shield. It will take time to win support again._ '

' **And you think by having Dean out in the open winning fights we'll get some?** '

' _It's a strong possibility, yes._ '

' **But not positive.** '

' _I'm not a fortune teller Mr Reigns. We are all in the fates hands, as are the lives of your Yes Movement if you disagree. To show my good intentions, Mr Ambrose may bring an ally along with him – I'll be outnumbered, and you will have the upper hand. I can even help you keep contact with one another. You saw my camera. I have my suppliers. This could be a very beautiful friendship._ '

Renee slowly peered around the group.

They all had their skills, they all had their uses. Hers? She could patch up wounds, she kept up moral and helped out in any way she could. She had no prestige. She had no name. She wouldn't be of any use in drumming up support in the city. But...by Dean's side...she could hope to keep him alive. She could hope to keep him going. To keep him safe.

' **I'll go.** '

They all looked at her.

' **No, I'll go.** ' Cena suggested, talking for the first time in minutes. She'd almost forgotten that he was there.

Renee shook her head. ' **They'll need you in Kennedy Mr Cena, with your police connections you'll be able to help them far better than I will.** '

' **If he doesn't arrest us first,** ' Seth muttered. ' **Renee you can't go, we won't be able to protect you if you're away from us.** '

' **Seth I've spent the past few days protecting _you_. I can look after myself. Out of all of us, I'm the only one who can tend to wounds, who can move unnoticed. I can make a name for myself in the fights with Dean. If people learn that we're fighting through the leagues together, people will pay more attention, Dean might be the main attraction, but I can keep them coming.** '

The one pair of eyes she didn't want to meet were Roman's, and when she did, she felt something break inside her rib cage. The hurt reflected back at her was agonizing. The idea of being away from him again was soul-destroying, but she knew she was right. There was a silent storm raging inside of her bones. She wished it would end but she knew that when it finally did...people would be hurt. Someone had to suffer for them all to survive. Her feelings alone she could deal with, but the way he looked at her...her heart cramped. She felt the salt puncture her eyes, and furiously she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. No. She had to be strong. She had to show them, she could do this.

What surprised her was the lack of objection from Dean. He seemed to know where she was coming from, agreed with her. The man barely knew her, and yet seemed to already have such faith in her that he was willing to gamble his life on her being in his corner.

' **Roman, I can do this,** '

He closed his eyes, ' **Miss Young will come with Dean.** '

There was a short pause, awkward almost. ' _Very well, I'm currently located in Jefferson. Seek out the Collective. They will bring you to me._ '

' **I thought you said you were alone Cesaro.** '

' _I am. The Collective are not my allies.'_

' **You're being held prisoner by them aren't you?** '

' _I prefer to think of myself as a guest in their affairs. I may require some aid removing myself from their attentions, but it should not be an problem for people of your caliber._ '

Renee rubbed her forehead. This was becoming more and more difficult. This didn't bring them any closer to removing the Authority from power, it almost felt like they were taking the road less traveled just to double back when they realized how lost they'd become. But Mr Cesaro made sense. The more allies they had, especially those with inside knowledge and a grudge, the better their chances were at succeeding. They couldn't let the Yes Movement suffer for their mistake. She felt the cold of Tyson Kidd's dog tags burn her skin. She reached out, and pried the C.B from Roman's fingers, and held it uncertainly in front of her mouth, finger down.

' **We'll come for you Mr Cesaro. I don't know how you control the life and death of the Yes Movement, but leave them be. We need to play this Game together if we all want to survive.** '

' _Well put Miss Young. I most look forward to your company once again. Though this time without the teapot. I must leave you now. I'm glad we could arrange this enterprise. Oh, and Mr Rollins? The Kennedy Title looks mighty fine around your waist, but I believe it belongs to Mr Reigns, isn't that right?_ '

The C.B cut out. Seth, who lingered just next to Renee, who, as she realized now, had held her left hand the whole time, let go in a flash and his eyes cast down to the dull gold around his mid-section. He made to take it off, but Roman reached out a hand and patted his shoulder, and shook his head. He turned his attention back to Renee.

' **Give us a minute?** '

No one argued with that. ' **When you're ready to move, I'll be with the truck at the back,** ' Dean muttered to her. He slunk round them both and hung in the shadows of the convoy, one with them.

' **I don't like this.** ' Roman's hands wrapped around Renee's wrists, his gaze so intense it might shoot laser beams straight through her skull. ' **We've only just found you again Renee, I don't want you gone again. Not now...never. I don't want you to go.** '

' **Roman,** ' her voice was soft. She gently pulled her hand free of his grasp, touched his healing forehead, traced the cuts and scars down its side. She pushed his thick hair behind his ear. What a face. What eyes. They'd haunted her so, the very idea of turning away from them now terrified her so completely and utterly. She'd climbed mountains just to be with him again...but now, she knew she'd have to move them with her bare hands to find him once more. ' **I'll find you. I promise, I'll find my way back to you. I can't quite imagine a life without you in it. I hate the idea, it's dreadful. You'll be my light at the end of the tunnel. That shooting star to chase. Don't be scared for me. If I die tomorrow, then I lived, and I have loved.** '

His breathing was heavy, her lungs felt so sore. He pressed his forehead to hers. The contact felt like she was on fire. She could feel the heat coming off his body. Shocks ran through her skin. Blinded, dazed, she almost let go. There was no safety net. She couldn't take cover. There was no running away from the feelings which glowed inside at one hundred degrees. The man before her could have been the biggest mistake of her life, the most wonderful stupid mistake. What good would it do her, loving a nomad? Loving a king? She could doubt herself every second but she could never lose faith in him. What she felt inside.

For the first time in her life, she felt in control. She kissed him. The world exploded, her senses blurred. He tasted like the blood which still lingered on their bodies, a copper that burned her lips. He tasted of motor oil and summer, some volcano heat that made her crave more. He responded in kind, hungry, bittersweet, a kiss which took her breath away. The pages of time and space could have torn and she would have been suspended forever in the sweat of his rawness. When it came time to breathe, she couldn't remember how. Her lips throbbed, stung. But he wasn't done. He took her again, another, harder, braver. She felt her body hitch, twitch. Instinct carried her into his arms, hands knotted in his thick mane. The tear that rolled down her cheek mingled with his sweat and fell to dissipate in the sands.

' **Renee?** '

She could barely remember her friend's existence until Brie appeared just beyond field of vision. She didn't let go of Roman, couldn't. Refused, but turned her head, just enough to see.

' **I...want you to have this,** '

Outstretched in her hands, was that silver straight razor. It was sharpened to perfection, it glared up at her in that early sun, dared her to lay fingers on its much loved surface. Splattered with the blood of its recent victims, it scared her. She couldn't take it. But Brie reached out, removed one of Renee's hands from Roman's skull, and closed her fist around it, pushed it away to Renee's breast.

' **It'll look after you, if you look after it.** '

' **But what about you?** '

Brie gave her a small smile, and looked over to Seth. ' **I'm with Captain Awesome remember? I'll...we'll all be just fine. You concentrate on looking after you.** '

Renee broke away then, threw her arms around Brie. She hung onto her so tightly, careful not to cut her. ' **Thank you Brie, thank you so much, for everything.** ' She sniffed and smiled, ' **Go and find your husband, and when you see him, give him the biggest kiss from me.** '

' **Wench! We gotta go, before the sun gets too high!** ' Dean – from far down the convoy.

Renee swallowed the annoyed smile, turned back to Roman. ' **I'll be back before you know it. Right back here.** '

He pulled her close, embraced her tight. ' **If anyone hurts you girl, they'll answer to me.** '

' **Looking after me? That's sweet Roman.** '

' **If I was looking after you I wouldn't let you do this.** '

' **We all do stupid things.** '

He nodded, and slowly, reluctantly, he separated his arms. It was like he was trying to part the sea, the effort, the pain in his face, his eyes...she didn't want to go. The perfect symmetry in his face would follow her, she knew that. She forced herself to breathe as she turned away, as she walked away from him. Every footstep broke her heart, every second she could feel his gaze burn into her back. Every part of her body told her to run back into his arms, to stay where it was safe. But it wasn't right. They were wrong. There were things that were bigger than her. She couldn't look at Roman, but cast her eyes to Seth. He tried to walk toward her, but Brie held him back. Renee gave him a small, sad wave. She didn't want to leave any of them. But Dean needed her. This man she didn't know needed her. She swore she'd heard that song before.

' **Look after Roman Seth, Brie try and stitch his arm up for me!** ' she quickened her pace, then stopped. A ball of fluff with four legs sat on the asphalt, looked up at her with massive, inquisitive eyes. ' **Oh Lillian.** ' She bent down, rubbed the head of her beloved pet. ' **Mama's got to go away sweetie. She'll come back, she promises. Seth will look after you. He will, he'll love you as much as I do.** ' She leaned forward, kissed the cat's head, and straightened up once more.

Dean waited in the driver's side.

' **No way Dean, if I'm going along with this madness, I'm driving the rig.** ' She said, and jolted her head. 'Move on over cowboy.'

He did so obediently, with a cocky smirk on his mouth that she just know she was going to hate further down the line. She steeled herself as she clambered up into the truck. It was heavy duty, newer than the character they'd traveled across state in. She ran a hand over the dashboard.

' **Eden...I'll call you Eden.** ' She turned her head to Dean. His boots were up on the dashboard, a new cigarette lit and stuck out the corner of his mouth. He'd smudged the blood on his forehead as he tried to slick his hair back and out of his eyes. The blood ruined his skin. He'd somehow found a shirt, no doubt from the back of the very truck they were in. It was the only part not spoiled. It looked wrong. She reached over, mopped some of the blood from his face and neck, and rubbed it on the navy police shirt. ' **Much better.** '

He gave her a cheerful grin, spread his legs, pointed between them, out the windscreen and shouted ' **Onward wench! Onward!** '

' **Dean we're not going to get very far if you're going to keep calling me wench.** '

' **Well I gotta call you somethin',** '

' **What's wrong with Renee?** '

' **Too normal.** '

She closed her eyes, counted to ten and turned the key. The truck rumbled to life. It sounded twenty times healthier than what she'd become accustomed to driving. She set it into reverse, pulled back, then into accelerate. She rounded the rest of the convoy and rolled down the asphalt, headed west, toward Jefferson. She past the first car, and Roman was sat on the roof. He didn't wave. He didn't smile, and when he was almost out of sight, he raised a hand to her. It must have been the heat, sweat from how hot it was getting; she rubbed the water from her cheeks.

' **So, Dean Ambrose...what's your story?** '


	2. The Weak Link

**((Hello there! A massive thank you to everyone who came to view** _ **Release The Hounds**_ **! It's been fantastic to see so many views in such a short amount of time and it really means a lot to me. Thank you also to the lovely reviews that have been left both here and for the final chapter of** _ **My Little Friend**_ **! I was really moved and it meant that all the hard work paid off. Here is the second chapter of** _ **Release The Hounds**_ **, I hope you all enjoy it, and please, as always, let me know what you think!** **))**

 **((UPDATE: We've reached over 100 views already! Thank you everyone!))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 || **BUCHANAN** North Capitol

' **So that's it? We just let them go Roman? We don't try and stop them? We just let them drive off into the distance? Is that what we do?** '

Seth stood at the foot of the truck that his brother sat on. His arms were crossed, broken fingers set to flex. The endless dust, dirt and sand had colored his skin. He could almost blend with the burned world around them, an angry blur. The sun caught in his hair and dried him down to the very bone. ' **Rome, we only just found each other again, and suddenly the very man who sent you to the pits is more important?** '

He clearly didn't want to hear it.

But Seth didn't care. He would not be ignored. Frustration poured through his body, flashed in his eyes. He smacked the hood of the truck so hard the pain was felt in his toes. He refused to let it show – it compared nothing to the agony that blistered every inch inside. ' **Look at me Roman!** '

When he did, the disappointed glare cut through him faster, sharper than any blade. Seth grasped his throbbing hand, wanted to look away, anywhere but the face of his brother, but he knew the damage was already dealt, and maintained the eye contact. The bullet gash on his arm had started to dry out – so fast – but what bristled between them was not so quickly healed, it was too alive, too hot. He pointed to the fading dust cloud as the truck finally disappeared from their sight.

' **That woman is the best thing that could ever have happened to us and we just let her drive off? Dean's a bag of bones! He's not ready to fight in the underground again, to defend himself and be expected to watch over her as well. You know what happened the last time that he fell into the pits Rome. If it happens again -,** '

' **It won't.** '

' **You can't know that -,** '

' **I trust Dean, Seth.** ' Rome carefully sat himself on the roof, feet down and onto the hood. His body hunched, like his stomach had cramped, his fingers grasped together, like he was trying to hold everything in place. His natural dead eye hung up on that trail of dust as it started to settle. ' **He knows what's at stake.** '

Seth shook his head, coiled from the heat, he was pent up and pissed off. Every disappearing pain on his body was a credit to Renee Young. She'd taken the time out of her life to creep into his and drag him from a demon. She'd taken great cares to keep him safe, to keep him alive and well. He felt like a rat, a filthy, disease-ridden rat for not trying to stop her. Her or Dean. Dean was his brother and neither he nor Roman had raised a syllable to try and dissuade him. They'd just let him waltz off to fight for his life when he'd barely recovered from what he'd been through. His mental state was unbalanced, the deaths of his friends had knocked him askew.

' ** _I_ trust him. We all do. But what if, Roman, what if he forgets? What if he becomes what I found in the asylum again? Remember Rome – the day we dragged him from that arena was the day the Authority got to me. What Dean had become threw me so that they wormed inside my head and pulled me away from you. I was at fault, I was weak...but if that's what happened to me, imagine her. If she sees it, and can't cope? She's never dealt with him like that. I – I just -,** ' with an exacerbated growl, he ran his hands fingers through his knots. ' **Shit...shit...we shouldn't have let them go.** '

He wasn't wrong. Roman remembered the creature, the hellion Dean had been. From one drug, one addiction to another – the Special K to the bright lights and blood baths of the KOW. The sun may have burned, but all he felt was the cold; that old cold which stumbled through his veins every night on the streets of Kennedy.

' **She's survived everything so far...** '

' **Rome, brother, _listen_ to yourself,** ' Seth implored, ' **She's done more than that. Without her, we'd all be belly up and pressed in concrete. She's made us feel and made us want to fight. She's faced everything, but she's never met the Lunatic Fringe.** '

That name, it hurt his brain – a bad memory which hid there and laughed at him when he tried to forget. It had been what Cesaro had come up with as a nickname for Dean when he fought in the underground, a character that he inadvertently became. A ruthless, crazed creature who didn't care who he battled, as long as he could taste the raw violence, who felt nothing for his own body, only devoured the fear and pain of others; it was retribution for all he'd suffered lifelong.

Roman's face felt leathery, the sun must have aged him a thousand years or maybe it was the terrible realization that Seth was right. But it was too late. She'd gone and taken their time bomb of a brother with them. Maybe having her there would ground him, stop him from falling too far down into the chasm of his own mind. She didn't know what she was sitting next to, what she'd cradled, rocked and healed. He could send his prayers and hopes after her and hope to God they kept her on her toes, and out of harm, from the demon who'd eaten the heart of Bray Wyatt. Maybe she'd work that magic that had brought peace to Seth on Dean's mind. Maybe she'd _die_ , painfully, screaming...

He'd been so reluctant to kiss her, but now that she was out of his reach, he cursed his cowardice. He'd never let anyone but his brother get close enough to see just who Roman Reigns was. She'd seen him from the moment he'd stomped into that diner. She didn't seem to care about the blood on his hand and the bodies in his wake. He'd felt the stirring but tried to ignore the call, for fear of what would happen. It was a short life for the women who loved the Shield. But who had he been trying to protect? Renee? Himself?

Seth noticed the turmoil, how could he miss it? Even with those busted fingers, he could climb. He made his way up, sat down next to the bulk of his brother and punched him in the arm. Hard.

' **Don't you dare feel sorry for yourself,** ' he forbid, ' **feel sad for the woman you just let go.** '

' **You really know how to make a man feel like shit Rollins.** '

' **It's a gift. But really – you're a fucking idiot. I could have had her, Rome. The chance was there, and every piece of me screamed when I pushed her away, and toward you.** '

Roman set his jaw; a threat.

' **Don't,** ' Seth warned flatly, ' **If it wasn't meant to hurt it wouldn't be called brutal honesty. I love that girl,** ' he rubbed his mouth slowly and shook his head, ' **but I love Roman Reigns more. You _need_ her, whether you realize it or not. And now she's gone, and you didn't try to stop her. If, and I do mean if, we are blessed with good enough fortune that somehow we all survive this madness, you'd better start praying that she forgives you Rome, because no matter how much _I_ love you, I really want to smack your face in. Brother,** ' he placed a hand on Roman's stony shoulder, ' **what chance is there that Cesaro had just tricked us into sending our family to their gruesome deaths?** '

The odds were, apparently, unspeakable.

' **I'm going after them,** ' Seth made to slide off the roof, but Roman caught his forearm, held him in place with those hard eyes. ' **Rome we left Dean behind once and we all died, moved and spoke and breathed but didn't live until we were together again, and right now, my liver and stomach are hot-footing it out of Buchanan in an Authority owned truck. I'm bleeding Rome, and they're still alive and not yet out of the town lines.** '

' **We need Cesaro's help, we need the Yes Movement alive...Seth, if we want this to end, for that old belt to mean something, we have to trust that they can do this. Renee said she could, and I believe her.** '

Seth was still, for a second his eyes narrowed and he turned his body a little to face his brother.

' **Do you love her, Rome?** '

He was answered only with uncommitted silence. With annoyance, he hissed and pulled is arm free, ' **One day Roman Reigns, you'll be like I was. You'll be alone, with no one to help you. You'll be terrified beyond words, in more pain that you ever thought could be real. All hope lost, Renee Young saved me, I hope she'll do the same for you.** '

He pushed himself off the roof, landed with bent knees. They complained as he stood, as he unbuckled the title, let it drop and left it in the dust. It could stay there forever –Seth didn't want to carry the burden if it meant watching the people he cared about vanish before his eyes. He'd follow Roman to hell, through black holes and the darkest hour. But right then, he didn't even want to look at the man he called brother. His feet marched him back toward the shelter and the small congregation which stood at its mouth. There had always been cracks in the Shield. How they'd measured themselves as men came to how they worked through the shit and stood united, together, as one. It was fucking difficult to be a unit when pieces were heading further west by the minute. The anger he felt...it wasn't Roman's fault. It was his own pitted fears that unless together, they couldn't be strong, couldn't be safe, couldn't succeed. It was his personal brand of poison – doubt. It could creep through him, rot his insides, and eat away at his brain. Doubt had taken him into the arms of the Authority, had let him believe what they told him, made an enemy out of Seth Rollins.

He was the weak link of the Shield.

A soft mew halted him.

The Russian Blue watched the thief with amber eyes, curious and accusing all in one. She slinked around his ankles, trailed her tail around his calf. Like him, she wouldn't be ignored.

' **At least you're still here,** ' he muttered, stooped low and trailed his fingers over her ears, ' **that's the last time I'm a good Samaritan Lillian. Next time a beautiful woman throws herself at me, I'm keeping my mouth shut, and I'm keeping _her_.** '

Lillian seemed to approve of this new mantra and rubbed her soft head into his weary hand.

' **I always wanted a pet – think you could be mine for a while?** ' he hazarded the prolonged purr meant yet. An almost childish happiness grasped him for a second. ' **If only all women were as easy as you,** ' he muttered and scooped her up in his arms. She adjusted and sat comfortably. Who knew why the cat had taken to him as much as she had, but he was thankful, it at least could give him some comfort. A flash of pain reminded him that he'd been shot. If she were there, Renee would have patched him up by now...

' **Having boyfriend trouble?** '

' **Ziggler, I'm not in the mood.** ' Seth growled.

' **Well you at least seem to be able to get a hold of _some_ pussy -,**'

That was it.

Lillian was out of his arms in a flash, and Seth gripped a hold of Dolph's denim jacket and, ignoring the pain in his hands, drove him back, flat against one of the few standing tin shacks. The smack resounded and heads turned but he didn't care. Ziggler seemed to find the fact that he was about to receive a pummeling hilarious. The smirk which sketched his mouth served only to fuel Seth's fire. Fist raised and smashed forward into skin and bone, but still that smile didn't die.

' **Go on Rollins, hit me. Think it'll make her yours? Go on, do it!** '

He didn't need telling twice. Each blow crippled him, time moved slowly, he could hear someone screaming for him to stop, but it was dull, in the distance, too far away to stall him. Dolph's face was just a flash through the red he saw, and it was difficult to discern which blood was his victims, or the blood of the field of dead cops. A hand caught his drawn back fist. Instinct carried him; he turned, released Ziggler and swung.

She hit the floor in a flurry of hair and a trail of blood. The splatters fell like raindrops. Brie...

His eyes widened, and he was next to her in a shot, a hand on her shoulder, but she knocked him away. ' **Brie I'm sorry I -,** '

She raised a finger to silence him, tried to rub the blood from her mouth on the back of her hand. Her tongue explored and found a hole, the tooth lost among the grit. The silence crippled him. A turn of the head saw Roman, down from the truck, still as a pillar of salt, eyes on him. All eyes on him, on Seth Rollins. His breathing hitched, lungs hurt, ribs constricted and he knew he couldn't contain it, couldn't stay. What he was feeling wasn't right, what he felt was hurting other people. He couldn't stay. He couldn't.

He was on his feet, and he was off, where to go?

' **Seth wait!** '

But he didn't, couldn't, he needed to be alone. He needed to be away from them, if only for a minute, for an hour. He had to collect himself. He had to draw it all back in. This was too much and he wasn't enough of a human to deal with it. His support system was gone, broken into little pieces and scattered to the four winds. He'd only turned his back once before, and now he felt like he was carrying the smoking gun. The shades of Buchanan reflected back at him and he could near smell as he started to set light to the bridges he'd built.

' **Seth!** '

He wouldn't stop. Maybe he'd fall down a mine shift and lose consciousness. Someone could wake him up when it was all over and it was the Spring. He could crawl through the haze and the darkness and still be too young to know what he was and who he was supposed to be. He didn't know and couldn't understand what this was – this incredible weight inside that made him strike one of the few who had come to stand by him. The hatred she should have had had been replaced by friendship. Brie Bella had overcome the murder of her husband to take his hand and fight with him against the enemies who threatened them both, and now he'd knocked her aside, knocked his own mind astray.

Buchanan was a cross-haired blur. It swam by at the edges of his vision. He'd not even followed a road, just shot off, a bullet through the remains of that poor shanty town. There was no map in his mind, nor was there a destination. He just had to go. They were safer away from him, until he could figure it all out. Until he could, until...

He came to a stop, his hands on his knees, breath thundered from his straining lungs and he spat to the ground. ' **Shit, shit.** '

He rubbed his nose, knees crash landed into the earth, a strange mud, half baked and ruddy as the sun which had faded from him now. He looked to the sky and found familiar clouds, heated red by the fire they contained. This land was new, this was a strange place. There were trees, black and dead, burned out from the fires which had ravaged Buchanan. But this wasn't the town, the outskirts of that barren place, where life had begun to creep through. Here and there shards of grass peeped through. Grass, green, it had been so long since he'd seen either. He crept forward on his stomach, laid himself out, and picked at the blade. It came free without effort and he held it in front of his eyes. How determined it had to be, to grow out here. The last rains must have been decades before. The weather patterns over Capitol had not changed since he was a child. The counties and regions had their own climates. The obscurities of the time and place they'd all made their home didn't miss him.

Eyes traveled. Where was he?

A look back over his shoulder showed the town to be on the horizon. Had he come this far and not noticed? How could he have run without stopping? Too afraid to face what he'd done. He'd always been so good at running away. It was the first instinct, but not with his brothers, not with her. He'd stopped to stand and fight when Orton and Batista had come for them. When they came together they could lift up the world...and with only a handful left, he was breaking again.

Roman wasn't enough.

He needed completion.

Minutes had passed and he'd pushed away one of his closest friends, struck another and...well Dolph deserved whatever happened to him. He was nothing more than a scavenger, fleeing with them to protect his own worthless hide. How he'd been trusted with Brie's safety was a mystery, but she was five times the man he was. Five times the man Seth was too.

 _You always did give up so easily Seth_.

No. Not now, he didn't need this now. He scrunched his fists into the sides of his head, tried to tune out the voice. Tried to force it back into the depths of his brain where he could pretend he'd never heard it before.

 _You know that it's best, for you to just walk away from them. They'll only be hurt more if you stay. Remember what you did before? Remember his head? Down through those cement blocks? Remember Roman? Oh what you did to him...you hurt them all Seth. Everyone you ever loved. But here, with us, they're only getting hurt for the wrongs they've committed. What you're doing to them now, it's not your fault. You're just doing what's best for business..._

' **Leave me alone,** ' he growled, head bowed, down into the mud. Water seeped through from some invisible source, clogged his nose and mouth. ' **Just go away,** '

Memories, haunting, cruel memories.

 _Pain is life, Seth. Inflicting it on others isn't a weakness, it's a strength, knowing that if you get to them first, you're safe. It makes you smarter than them, bolder because you're willing to make the first move. Do you think they would have stayed with you anyway? You're cutting ties before they cut you down._

No. He wouldn't go through this again. He'd run away before, into the arms of blind power and corruption – there was no safety net now. Where he was, this purgatory with nothing more than the clothes on his back, he wasn't even leaving for _better things_. Just running away, running like a coward. The Authority had given him everything and nothing, tempted his consciousness, peppered his pride.

But Renee – he'd wanted to do more than kiss her in that shelter. She'd been so willing, so ready for him to take her in his arms, to –

No.

This wasn't about her. It was him. All him. He was a selfish fucker, a stupid kid who only cared about himself. Accusing Roman he'd tried to pass the blame on, when really he'd stood by too, let Brie hold him back. He was using Renee as an excuse. The beauty of breaking was when you saw every piece of your soul shining back at you, the shards were sharp and drew your blood, but you could throw away those you didn't need. He was too scared, he needed to keep every part of himself, if he lost some he wouldn't work right. His fatal flaw, his fatal sin was the fear of being incomplete. And now, here, he was struggling to keep it together.

If he ran forever, he'd leave a trail of paper dolls in his likeness, each half rotten and ready to decompose. If he stood and grounded his roots he might survive, but the people around him were too important. In equal measure he loved and feared them. They could take him in, or they could throw him aside when they knew how fucked up he was.

A hand, warm was on his shoulder, another, they grasped round his neck and pulled. Sticky from the mud he finally took a breath, found his head pressed against soft breasts and hands keeping him safe.

' **Renee?** '

' **No, just me. I'm afraid I'll have to do.** ' Brie muttered into his hair. She held him so strongly, and when he tried to move she didn't let go, didn't let him. She held him together as he tried to remember how to breathe, as his blurred vision began to focus once more. He felt like he was living in the dead of night, trying to stay awake because he knew that when he slipped off, he'd only fall into living nightmares. Nowhere was safe anymore. Even the sweaty embrace of Brie. ' **You can't just do that Rollins. You can't just hit and run, it's not gentlemanly.** '

' **I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.** ' He felt on the verge of tears.

He remembered days when he was young, when he missed the kiss of his mother when she didn't come home. He remembered when he was a better man at eight years old, trying to find her because he worried for her safety rather than his own. He found her greased up from drugs and high as a kite with a stranger fucking out her senses. She'd never been a bad woman, just lost. The lost bred the lost, and he knew he was born without a chance. She died in one of those alleyways, stabbed for not coming up with the green and refusing to give her body anymore. She died a woman, strong as iron, and left behind a son of spit and salt. Oh wouldn't she be fucking proud.

' **Seth,** ' she pulled away a little so that she could look at him, see him, ' **you're one disturbed guy, you know that?** '

' **I know,** ' he muttered.

' **Dolph didn't deserve what you did. He's an asshole, a stupid, ignorant bastard, but he's never going to look the same after what just happened.** '

Maybe the guilt would steady him. ' **I don't care about Dolph. He can rot in hell.** '

She smacked him across the back of the skull.

He closed his eyes, leaned against her. She didn't seem to mind. She stroked his head absently. ' **Don't do that.** '

' **What?** '

' **That. She did that.** '

' **Seth, I heard you and Renee. You stopped her, you told her that Roman needed her. You can't push someone away and then be angry when you're left alone. You can't do that. She offered you a chance, and you told her no. You were selfless then, don't be a shit now. What's happened isn't anyone's fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame Cesaro. He's the one who divided us.** '

' **Thought you were sleeping.** ' He grunted.

' **Never trust a Bella,** ' she muttered. ' **That's what Nikki always said, like it was something to be proud of.** '

Seth changed his position, moved out of her protective circle and sat opposite her. He looked her over, saw the bruise and cut at the corner of her mouth. Shame flooded him and his eyes dropped to the dirt. She wouldn't let him get away with that though, and quickly raised his chin to make him see her once more.

' **You can't wallow in this Seth. It's unbecoming. We need each other. You can't run just because it hurts.** '

' **You did.** '

' **And look where it got me.** '

' **I don't know what to do. The last time it was easier because she walked away from me, but this time, I could have had her. I could have, and yet, I was the one who ruined it.** '

' **She's in love with Roman, Seth. I know you don't want to hear it, but even if something had happened between the two of you, she still would have been pulled toward him. I can see it in her eyes. She doesn't understand it right now, and maybe you don't either, but it wouldn't have worked.** '

She was right; he didn't want to hear it. Oh he'd been so easy with the truth when he'd been sprouting it to Roman, but now that he had to hear it himself, it felt like a well deserved slap to the face. He wanted to block his ears like a kid.

' **Is this jealousy really worth losing him over?** '

No. No it wasn't.

When Roman had saved him and Dean, it had been a selfless act. They'd been outnumbered six to one. They were having an off night; normally such odds wouldn't have meant a thing. Tied up and doused in gasoline, thrown in a dumpster their numbers had been up until Superman came to their rescue. He'd walked away from them, but the trust had been established, and when they found him on his knees, a gun to his head, they intervened, not for themselves...for him. The Shield had been formed before he'd even said yes. They belonged together.

And he'd fallen in love in the worst way. They mattered so strongly. He'd only brought the two men trouble since the day they'd met him. But they'd stayed through and through, thick and thin. The only man to ever walk away from the Shield had been Seth Rollins.

' **Come on. Let's go back.** '

She stood, offered a hand to pull him up. He was tempted to sit, wallow in the mud and just drown in the atmosphere, but she wiggled her fingers at him. Not allowed. He took her hand and she heaved him to his feet. As he stood, he put his arms around her, pulled her close and tight for a proper embrace. He was rarely speechless, but when he couldn't find the words, his actions were what gave him away. What he'd felt when he'd seen his brothers again, had been more than the passion he'd felt for Renee Young. It had been more than the thrill of life.

' **Roman's going to hit me.** '

' **And you'll take it like a man.** ' She said, and she smiled. You couldn't see where the tooth was missing; it seemed further back than he'd originally thought. But the fact remained that he'd knocked out one of those pearly whites. ' **I owe you a shot anyway Mr Rollins.** '

Seth could have stood there and taken it. Instead, he nodded solemnly, then pulled himself away and darted back toward Buchanan.

' **Seth Rollins! Come back here!** '

So what if he was running away? Old habits die hard, and he knew she didn't mind. She laughed at him, and he couldn't help but laugh at himself. This time, as he ran, he felt the breeze, he saw the world as it scrolled on past. He went slower than before, with no monster to run from, it seemed stupid to waste his energy. He'd need it to avoid Roman's punches when he finally returned. There was no plan to his behavior, no real record of any reaction. He could have been born anyone at all, and he had the misfortune to become Seth Rollins. Born lost, he'd stumbled upon some luck in the form of the brothers who carried him.

As he ran, he looked to the distance where he remembered Renee and Dean to disappear. _Good luck_ , he mused. They were both going to need it. He would too; as soon as he was close enough he knew he would be seeing stars. He'd just be another fool with a broken heart. He'd known so much love that he'd felt too much.

' **Come on Brie!** ' he shouted, he turned and started to jog backward. She was closing in fast. She'd moved like light when fighting Orton, and now, she thundered past him. He span on the spot, blinked and stared after her. Wow. Wherever Daniel Bryan was, when they met again, he'd have to question how on earth he landed someone like Brie Bella. It seemed inconceivable anyone could handle her when the elements barely could. He shrugged though, and shot after her.

Whatever was waiting for him when they finally stopped, he'd remember what she'd said. He'd remember the Game's words too. Those forbidden memories which festered just below the surface. Forgetting them meant he hadn't learned. And he had. He had...he just forgot sometimes.

Soon he passed the shanty shacks.

Hours must have passed, but still standing by that truck was Roman. The sun had moved further along in the sky, marked the afternoon and blazed down on his brother like he was in his own personal spotlight. Dolph wasn't getting an apology, maybe later. He had more important wounds to heal than those he'd marked Ziggler's face with.

The slow trudge back up through the sand felt like a funeral march, and when he finally stopped in front of Roman, he fully expected to be knocked down it again.

' **Ro – I'm sorry -,** '

He was interrupted as Roman tugged him into a back breaking hug.

' **Thank you.** '

' **What for?** ' he choked and gasped for air. Roman often forgot just how strong he was.

But he didn't receive an explanation. It was only when he started to slap Roman's back for air that any slack was given. His lungs expanded and his intake of breath was high pitched an welcome. Roman held him at arm's length to look at him, dead in the eye. He nodded solemnly. Seth knew what it meant, he was forgiven. For that he was gracious, but he couldn't help but feel he was too easily reprieved. Roman suddenly turned him bodily around, and he met fresh pain as a fist smacked straight into his jaw. He grasped it in shock, the world span a little and he found Brie before him, shaking out her wrist from the retribution.

Something felt loose inside his mouth.

He moved, and felt something give. He spat. There in his hand, a tooth.

' **Tooth** **for a tooth,** ' Brie said, she winked at him. ' **Just don't let Dolph think he gets the same privilege**.'

Seth nodded slowly and sucked blood. He flicked his eyes to Roman. ' **So what now?** '

' **Until Dean starts winning some fights we have no direction. We can't stay here, the Authority know where we are, an more trouble will come when those cops don't return to Kennedy.** '

' **What about Cena? Where is he?** ' Seth asked. Roman pointed over his shoulder, toward the end of the road. ' **He likes roads doesn't he?** '

' **He thinks they need to be checked constantly for enemies,** ' his brother grunted.

' **I think the Wyatt's damaged him more than we thought.** '

' **It's possible. Or he really likes roads.** '

A small smile then, just at the corner of Roman's mouth. Everything would be alright.

' **We should move, all of us.** '

' **Where?** '

' **You're the leader Seth, you tell me.** '

He stared. Ever since they'd been reunited after his betrayal, Roman had assumed the role of head of the Shield. He had followed without question, still made plans, did all he had before, but only with Roman's authority. This...this was different. For Roman to hand over control, did he trust him? But one look in those dark eyes, warm in the heat of the afternoon, told him he had nothing to worry about. The heat however...how they'd stayed out in it as long as they had was a mystery, but as he looked about, he could see Brie crouch down into the shelter, and his own skin was beginning to burn.

' **I think we'd best get out of the sun, before we burn to death.** '

' **Wise.** '

Together they moved down toward the den. Within minutes of crawling into the damp space, Cena joined them, and took up much of the room. The Rhodes brothers were both standing in the hide. They were perfectly still, heads cocked, unblinking. It was strange to think that this was just them, how they were.

' **Twenty mile from here is Lincoln,** ' Cena said as he tried to get comfortable. He was so big it was difficult for him in the hide. ' **I found the sign.** ' He sounded proud of himself.

It was hard not to like him.

' **I have friends in Lincoln,** ' Brie said, she looked unsure though. ' **Well. Friends is a loose word...we won't be turned away though. I can guarantee it.** '

Seth nodded and closed his eyes, chin to his chest. Maybe, for now, he would sleep. Maybe he'd have sweet dreams, maybe nightmares. The sun could pass overhead; when the night came they would leave Buchanan. Perhaps they could find new allies in Brie's friends. Maybe they'd encounter a new fight. Whatever happened – he leaned against Roman – he wasn't going it alone.


	3. Fun

**((We have over 150 views! Thank you everyone who has stopped by to read the newest installments of the boys' story! Thank you to those have reviewed, it means a lot that you're supporting me and showing how much you're enjoying the story! So this is the next chapter, and I have to say, it's one of my very favorites that I've ever written. I hope you love it as much as I do. As always please let me know what you think!))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 || **LAST CHANCE HIGHWAY** North, North-West Capitol

' **\- And that's when I found out she was a dude.** '

Was she still listening? He thought she was. It was kind of hard to tell. Sometimes she'd make little noises like _uh huh_ , and _wow_ and _yeah?_ Her eyes were on the road but sometimes they'd widen and she'd look at him in some kind of shock and he really liked that. He liked that she didn't know what to think and that the story he was telling was just so damn juicy her brain was turning to mush. That was what happened when you couldn't handle the real shit. Dean could handle shit. He'd always handled the shit. Back when his Mom let all the Johns in the flat to wreck her, he'd go in and see her after they'd gone, stumbling and pulling up their pants, and she'd give him a spunk covered five dollar bill to go get her some smokes. If he brought them back she'd smack him for taking too long. If he smoked them himself she'd lock him out all night. Sometimes he'd sleep on the doorstep and when more Johns came and tried to force their way in, he'd bite and scratch and fight them. They'd knock him around. One had tried to drown him in the toilet because he'd come in on him fucking his Mom's mouth. He'd seen a lot, taken a lot, done a lot.

Renee might have wanted to hear his story, but it seemed it was too much for her pretty little ears to bear. If she couldn't take what he had to say, would she survive being down in the sewers and the punters and seeing that cold, concrete pit dug out so that the brawlers could play or die. Would she thrive like the cutthroats and the scumbags like him? Oh he was a scumbag. He knew he was wretched and he took life like the sharp end of the knife because that was what tasted best to him. He could see the bright lights in the dashboard and they shone so fucking bright they could swallow him whole and send him into space. The time crept in the digital display. He watched it with narrow eyes, didn't trust the numbers because they didn't match the light outside. They were playing tricks, trying to fool him. He could see it now. Time was an illusion; it was made to make fools out of humans, but not Dean Ambrose. Oh no, he would not be controlled by those little red numbers. He hit the side of his head hard.

Keep it all locked up Dean. Keep it all in. Keep it safe. Keep it fun. Keep it all a-OK.

She didn't notice. What did she see in the road? He squinted his eyes so hard they might bleed. What was there? Did he see the ghosts of dead hitchhikers splattered against the windscreen? Did she see the earth breathe? Up and down up and down, the truck went over the bumps and he took in breath and let it out too. What was in those empty eyes? She looked sad and she looked confused and lost, like she didn't know which way to go or where they were headed even though they both knew that Jefferson was that way – that way, over there, along that piece of road and in that general direction. It was where the pits were lowest. There were no walls around Jefferson. Pretty little girls like Renee were bought and sold by the nasties. If she wasn't careful she might end up with a new name and a new job polishing knobs. But he'd look after her – yes he would! He'd be the Sheriff of Jefferson, Officer Ambrose reporting for duty.

He played with the glove compartment. It fell open and a dozen papers spilled out onto his lap and down into the foot well. He picked them up by their corners in case they were dirty, between thumb and forefinger so that his hands didn't get any germs. He left bloody prints on the white as he went through. Nothing, nothing, nothing...oooh what was this now?

Dean pulled his feet off the dashboard and crossed them like a good little schoolboy as he studied. Words didn't make no sense to him. They jumped all over the pages and chased each other round and didn't want to stay still. Fucking letters, they just wanted to confuse him. He could read – AJ had shown him how, but he found it hard without someone to show him. He squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth as he tried to make the squiggles stop dancing. They were laughing at him. They were making fun of him. If he chewed his tongue it hurt and it stopped his words. If he scrunched the paper, maybe it would hurt the words; make the letters stay still too. He balled the paper up in his fist, squished it tight into a little snowball of old wood. Maybe he should swallow the words too, and they'd jump up into his brain, make him smart as Seth. He unscrewed the sheet and took a quiet bite, taking off a good portion of the corner. He chewed quietly and looked at of the window. There were some trees. He took another bite. Mushy.

Hey look – a person.

Stupid person, this was a road. What the fuck was she standing in the middle for? Gonna get run over, be messy. Look – wavin' her arms, sayin' hello. Dean took another bite out of the paper and swallowed.

' **Shithead gonna die if she don't move, move asshole!** ' he yelled, more to himself than anything. But Renee seemed to hear that. She blinked, she shouted, she put her foot on the break and damn near sent them both through the screen. ' **Stupid bitch! Coulda killed us both!** ' he snapped, balled up the last of the paper and stuffed it in his mouth in annoyance. None of the words had gotten to his head yet. Maybe he had to digest them first. Seth had told him once that was how those pills worked they'd all taken that night in that bar in Monroe. That was a strange night. Roman and Seth had tried to climb walls and they'd said there were creatures in the corners, but Dean couldn't see them. ' **She looks crazy. We should go.** '

Renee looked at him with a surprising amount of confusion. ' **Dean – there's no one there. What on earth did you make me stop for?** '

' **Didn' make ya do nothin',** ' he grumbled and shuffled down in his chair, arms crossed and his mouth and nose disappeared under the collar of the stolen shirt. ' **She's there – look, she's wavin'.** '

' **Dean -,** '

' **Open yer eyes woman!** ' he snapped, sat up like he'd been shocked and pointed out the window. ' **Look, look beyond yer pretty lil' nose and see the bitch ya almost killed cos she wanted to dance in the road.** '

She closed her eyes, and then, did as she was told. But he could see, that she couldn't see, anything at all.

He could have hit her, looked out that window again for the lady with the red hair. She wasn't waving no more. She stood and stared at him. What a nice face, pretty face, like an elf, like the moon. She looked like she cried milk and spoke in song. But she terrified him. She looked like she was coming closer but he didn't see her walk. Her smile was too sweet and her eyes too big and when she smiled proper with open lips he saw rotten teeth, black and red.

 _We'll meet again one day Dean._

' **Abigail...** ' he scrunched his eyes, shook his head, sunk back into the chair. She was there, standing in the middle of the road. Every blind brought her close, close.

' **Dean?** '

' **Drive,** ' his throat was dry. ' **Drive woman, fuckin' drive!** '

Renee flinched, but did as she was told. The truck lurched forward. He saw it's nose smash straight through the body, but she just came on through the metal and glass, came for him just like she'd promised, and as she was about to collide with his body, he cried out, eyes closed. But the pain he expected didn't come. His arms over his head, sweat dripped down his face, he inched an eye open to see...no one; nothing but empty air. Cautious, he lowered his arms, moved up in his seat, looked all around, in front, to the side, to the other side, the back seat, he opened the car door, leaned out and checked the roof. She screamed at him to come back in and he only did to make her shut up. Should have thrown himself out and made a run for it. But then she'd probably catch him –

' **Dean what's going on...are...are you alright?** ' she sounded _scared_.

Scared? She should have been scared.

' **Jus' fuckin' dandy...** ' he brought his knees to his chin and stared out the window. Hey look, trees. But these were different trees, these had silver bark which peeled off like snakes skin. Snakes, they slithered – Randy Orton slithered. Was he below them right then? Crawling through the gutters to make his way back home to talk to a goat? The road just scrolled right on past. His face felt hot, hot like fire in a wooden shack. He could nearly smell the incense. He could _hear_ the flies. He tried to wipe away the new sweat, wiped off blood instead. He saw those hands drenched in red and could remember the taste of that fat heart. It had tasted rotten, like he'd swallowed maggots. Sick, sick as a dog, that's what he was. ' **Stop...gotta stop.** '

She did, she pulled on over and he threw open the door, he stumbled out and onto his hands and knees, he crawled into old grass that smelled dead and he threw up the evil inside. Thick, lumpy, vomit, it stank and made his eyes water. The sweats claimed him and his skin blanched white for this easy exorcism. His back and stomach heaved and the out pour of bile and acid rotted his teeth from back to front. Again, again until even the lining had holes enough. He felt something cool, something gentle – her sweet healing hands rubbed his back. She was on her knees in the grass next to him.

' **Get it all up, that's it...** ' she didn't seem to notice the reek, or she was made stronger than him. Maybe she _was_ an angel. Did angels see the souls of the long dead? Could they sense the demons inside? Could she see what he was? Who he was? What Sister Abigail made him do...did she know the Lunatic Fringe? Did she know that he hid and laughed with Abigail in the back of his head? That he tried to ignore them both but it was so fucking hard. The cops, killing the cops, had that done it? Had that been what opened the doors and let her out? She wasn't real anymore, she was just in his head...but she _tasted_ like hell; rotten, maggoty hell. There – he could see the chunks of muscle, broken down by the acid it swam in. ' **Dean – sweetheart, you're sick...you shouldn't do this...maybe we should go back.** '

He wiped his gasping mouth on the back of a bloody hand and shook his head, hands back to the shaking earth to try and keep up. Didn't want to plant his face among that shit. All that shit. His Mom had had a crappy job, but he didn't know what; didn't pay the rent on their crappy apartment so the Johns came to visit. He could see her face reflected back in the vomit, stuck under the water in the rusty bath, a death mask. The woman in the road had looked a lot like Mom. But she was gone and she weren't coming back. Abigail, playing in his head, making him see things like he was mad. But he wasn't mad. He wasn't.

' **Can't go on back – Ol' Dean's got ol' business to finish; gotta get goin' ta Jefferson ta save the biscuit...** ' he made to stand, but wavered and would have hit the earth had she not caught him. She was stronger than she looked. Pretty face had pretty muscles underneath the pretty skin – would she taste good? Maybe one day he should try a bite. But Roman wouldn't like that. He'd get a walloping for trying out Roman's girl.

' **Dean we're not going anywhere whilst you're like this** _ **.**_ '

He tried to shrug her off but she had a good hold on him. Without any help from him, she heaved him along, back to the open door of the truck, and she sat him on the step of the foot well.

' **They must have some water or something...let me check,** ' she leaned him back carefully. For a moment she paused, just to check he wasn't about to keel over. When it was clear the only direction he was going was South, she quickly moved round to the trunk and heaved it open. He could hear her move things around. ' **Looks like we've struck gold,** ' she reappeared with water bottles in hand. She unscrewed the lid of one and held it to his dry lips. ' **Come on Dean, drink. You'll feel better if you do.** '

Maybe it was because his Mom never had treated him like a kid, he felt strangely safe with this woman because she looked after him. In Buchanan she'd helped him through his grief with hugs and sweet words. She seemed to look at them all as individuals with independent needs – she reacted to them all different. What made him so special that she graced him with such comfort? What good had he fucking done in some previous life for her to even give a shit? But she did. She did and it confused him. He shivered as he drank. The blood had soaked through onto his skin and now the heat of Buchanan was gone, they'd both gone cold.

' **We need to get you out of those clothes,** ' she muttered. Her crouched position in front of him made him see her properly, and all that reflected back at him was the concern penciled onto that face of hers. ' **There might be something we can change you into in the back...you got that t-shirt from there after all.** ' Once again she disappeared and he was left to waver. Maybe she was right, maybe he wasn't fit for work but Dean Ambrose had never walked away from a fight. He couldn't. The raw violence and the promise of it had worked its way into him and had reformed around his spine and steeled his nerve to such an extent that he was blind to anything else. That was why the Shield had been, and was, so important. His love for his brothers overthrew the bloodthirsty creature inside, the gremlin that came out when he was in the pits.

Was that – was that music?

He tried to turn to see, and just about made out what looked to be a bus of sorts come up behind them and draw to a stop. Dean put a hand on the door frame, forced himself up, and using the truck for support, shuffled his way to the back. Renee hadn't noticed and jumped when he appeared in her field of vision.

' **You should be sitting down -,** ' she chided, but stopped when he pointed behind her. The bus was massive, black, and seemed to have something painted on the side of it. Now that it had stopped, the music was louder than over, some sort of...party going on inside? He made to move forward, but she stood in front of him, arms stretched out a little. He saw his old gloves there still on her hands and felt something surge inside him – a little piece of nostalgia. He remembered the day he was given them – a visit by Seth Rollins in the asylum. They'd been a present to protect his knuckles when he hit the walls. Later they sewed those studs into place and wrote _Dirty Deeds_ on the back – the phrase Regal used for the misdemeanors of Dean Ambrose. Her hand moved to her pocket, slowly, and stayed there – he knew she'd curled those skinny fingers of hers around that pretty, sharp thing Brie had pressed into her hands. Didn't he feel special? She was willing to spill blood to look after him.

The door of the bus opened.

Renee tensed against him. A head popped out, all long hair with wide eyes. A little white stick stuck out from his lips, glitter dusted the shoulders of his leather vest and from behind him ever changing lights danced.

' **You guys need a hand? I've got fifty!** ' a cheer erupted from behind him and he shot a shit-eating grin to whatever was going on behind him. Suddenly, he seemed to fix his gaze on Renee. He raised his eyebrows, snaked down the stairs of the bus and came to land on the dying grass. He leaned against the black and red with sin in his smile. ' **Well look at you, been in the wars?** ' the blood didn't seem to bother him, in fact it only seemed to elongate that grin. Dean didn't trust it, made to open his mouth but Renee silenced him with a shake of her head.

' **We're fine. Just stopping for a break.** '

' **Oh well, I couldn't possibly interrupt a** _ **break**_ **.** ' As he said it, the man flexed his fingers in quotation marks. He peered around the side of her to take a look of Dean. His eyebrows raised, his nose wrinkled – maybe he could smell the sick in the grass. ' **Hmm...well let me introduce myself, I am Adam Rose!** ' as he said it, rose petals and cheers exploded out of the open door behind him. When neither Dean nor Renee reacted to the name, he waited for something, anything. He stood with his arms raised like he was supposed to be some kind of rock star. He looked like an idiot.

' **Er...Renee.** ' she offered and held out a hand, just to make him feel important. Rose slithered forward and took it, placed it to his lips and smothered it in wet sounding kisses. Renee looked disgusted rather than flattered.

' **Enchanted,** ' he muttered between squelches.

Clearly not important to the scene, Dean sidestepped out from behind Renee and edged round the two of them. What was going on inside the bus? He inched to the door and peered inside. The lights dazzled, near blinded him. Music blared and he could only just make out the swathes of dozens of dancing bodies, but it was the smell that got to him, some far too sweet perfume that made his stomach heave.

' **The fucks goin' on in there?** ' he growled and tried to cover his nose and ears simultaneously.

Rose looked over his shoulder, apparently pissed at his attempted romancing of Renee being interrupted.

' **That is the** _ **Exotic Express!**_ **Where the party never ends! Where men are kings! Where women dance and sing! Where little people are bigger than giants! It's where happiness is in a bottle and ecstasy is more than a little pill – though sometimes it's more fun that way.** '

Renee took advantage of the distraction and pulled her hand away, rubbed it on the side of her jacket to try and get rid of the saliva it had been coated with.

' **Smells like palm trees fucking,** ' Dean grunted.

' **That is the smell of excess my friend! Any and every dream you've ever had can come true on the** _ **Exotic Express!**_ **Nothing is what it seems! Sex and magic and glitter are life! And you, my little cretin, even you could be the apple of a special lady's eye on my all night express!** ' he put an arm round Dean's shoulders as he said it and manually tried to steer him away from the door. He took him round the side of the bus and pointed up at the massive emblem painted on the side – just far enough from Renee's ear shot. ' **Your lady friend is rather delicious. I would like to take her on board. I think she would make a fabulous addition to my Rosebuds.** '

' **She's not for sale.** ' Dean grunted. But something caught in his brain – Rosebuds. He was sure he'd heard that somewhere before. One of John's stories when they were on their way up to Buchanan...something about flowers...no...something about disappearing women...

' **I can make it worth your while.** ' Rose's eyebrows bobbed, he plucked the lollipop from his mouth and pointed it dangerously close to Dean's face. ' **Any one of my girls can be yours, you can join the legions on my bus, if you let me have her as one of my own.** ' He glanced over his shoulder to where Renee had turned her back on them both and continued to root through the trunk of the truck, searching for some new clothes for Dean, who didn't like the way Rose's eyes lingered on her ass.

' **I said,** _ **she's not for sale.**_ ' He growled, seconds away from smashing a taped up fist into the smug bastard's face.

Rose was undeterred, and turned his attention back to Dean. But something had changed. Something dark was in his eyes, his smile, less annoying, crueler, unforgiving.

' **Oh but everyone is for sale,** _ **Dean Ambrose**_ **.** '

The hand slung over his shoulder had been closed, a locked fist. But Rose drew back, opened his palm and blew. Something powdered shot into Dean's mouth, nose, eyes. He coughed, spluttered. The powder burned every particle. It absorbed into his tongue, it shot straight up into his mind, attacked every nerve. He felt like he was choking. Hands grasped at Rose, caught his leather vest, but couldn't keep the grip. His knees slumped, he saw eye to eye with Rose's bulging crotch, and tipped sideways. He saw stars in the day as everything faded to black.

' **Dean?** **Dean?** '

Renee's eyes were wide. In hand, a pair of navy combat pants, another shirt, a police issue jumper, all rolled in a ball for him to change into. But she saw him collapse at Adam Rose's feet. She ran forward, dropped the clothes as she did, pushed Rose aside and was next to Dean. She tried to roll him onto his back but he was complete dead weight.

' **What have you done to him?** ' she cried, was on her feet, fists raised. But Adam Rose was no longer alone. Five or more people, dressed in masks, in fancy dress were behind him. Their faces fixed in permanent grins, Jack O' Lantern smiles that looked like they'd been cut onto their mouths. She pulled Brie's razor from her pocket, flicked it open and raised it, ' **Stay back! Stay away from us!** '

Rose didn't look threatened.

She heard movement, peered behind her and Dean and found more. Surrounded, they were surrounded and Dean was out and she didn't know what to do. She didn't want to kill. Panicked she tried to nudge Dean with her foot, but nothing. Only the very slight rise of his back told her that he was even alive. Fear crept through her, cold sweat trickled down the side of her face.

' **Take her**.'

They descended like animals. She screamed, she slashed at faces and the fingers that crowded her. Blood flew but the barrage didn't stop. They came too close. Their fingers tore at her clothes, her short hair, they gripped her limbs and they ignored all pain and locked around her wrists and legs as they lifted her from the floor, knocked that razor from her grasp.

' **Let me go! Let go! Dean!** ' she screamed not for herself, but for him. ' **Dean! Wake up! Dean!** '

The open door of the bus reminded her of the red light in the warehouse. She struggled with all her might as they carried her toward it. All the while Adam Rose stood there, smug, and sucked on that lollipop, oblivious to eyes which watched from the woodland behind him. Eyes that narrowed, and disappeared back into the shadows.

' **Welcome to the** _ **Exotic Express!**_ _'_ he called to Renee as her cries disappeared through the door. He moved forward, crouched down next to the unmoving body of Dean. ' **Your little friend will be a perfect Rosebud. But I have different plans for you Ambrose. I've heard a lot about you and your brothers. You sound like a lot of fun.** ' He stood and nodded to a partier dressed head to toe in a rabbit costume. ' **Bring him.** '


	4. Last Of The Fire

**((Hello there! Here is the newest update for you all! I hope that you like it, this episode we return to Randy's P.O.V – any character who isn't Seth, Roman, Dean or Renee's P.O.V will be presented in italics – because reasons! I really enjoy writing Randy, and I hope you like what I've done! Please, please let me know what you think!))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 **|| UNDERGROUND CORRIDORS** Capitol **/ HALLS OF FAME, KENNEDY** Central Capitol

 _Three days or more on his feet and even his skin was starting to blister. The dark had burned into the back of his eyeballs and his slither was fast becoming a crawl. The lack of air, the lack of food, of water, it had all taken his body down to the barest. He knew what was ahead and that it wouldn't be pleasant, that he'd need his little strength to stay on the line. His throat was dry; his tongue sore from where that pretty little bitch had tried to slice it in two. Oh it had knitted, but the dull thud of his pulse still thumped in his mouth. He'd gone through the dark, only stopping for disturbed sleep, for his hands to snatch rats out of the shadows – protein to make you sick to your stomach. He'd been in worse holes in the ground. These lairs at least had been carved by hands who knew._

 _Who'd actually built the underground kingdom he didn't know. There had always been rumours. The Halls of Fame beneath Kennedy had been carved out by the crazy hands of Mick Foley. Once the man had been indestructible, but with a simple, clean break he'd dissected the legend, broken him in two. It was almost sad. But he liked that idea – Randy Orton, Legend Killer. What a name. Perhaps when this venture was followed through he'd seek out those who had wronged him, who'd claimed higher power and lay waste to them. Maybe he'd started with the Game._

 _He'd thought he'd been in the city by now, but he was slower than he thought. His body was tired – energy level devoted to trying to heal the missing pieces. Disease might have already started to fester from the damp air below – but he couldn't feel the mushrooms growing just yet. And Kennedy was close. He could smell that polluted air – he could smell the burn from the fall of the asylum. He'd been there not long after the bombs had hit, he'd stood among the rubble and seen what remained. He'd tasted the air and he'd hunted through the debris – there had been no sign of the Shield, no sign of William Regal and no sign of the Yes Movement. But he'd seen the presence of someone – long thought dead since his disappearance from the streets – the bomb maker, the hooded man. But what did that mean? Nothing more than an allegiance with the Movement. The chaos which had remained had already been sorted. They'd started to rebuild what parts had been completely destroyed, housed the remaining patients with their carers._

 _Would they be done? Were the crazies back in their cages, bashing their heads open on doors and walls?_

 _Ambrose belonged in that bedlam. It was a bitter taste in his mouth that the lunatic was out and about in the open air. He could remember the pain as he'd tried to sever his fingers – only for that woman to finish the job. Orton walked for now; let his legs rest. He flexed his remaining digits. Enough to cause damage – too few to have a promising career as a violinist. He was sure he'd survive. He'd had his shoulders knocked out of joint, he'd broken bones and each and every injury he'd come back from. He'd near re-grown portions of skin from being caught in Movement bombings and raids. They would not be pleased to see him, but he was only miles from knocking on their door. But there was more than the rebels in the dark._

 _Orton stopped. He peered around him with those golden eyes. The walls were familiar, but something felt wrong. Nothing had moved around, though the shadows could play tricks on you sometimes. The smell of cinders reached his nose and he was sure he could see something flicker in the dark. He could be swift as a bat's wing, and in silence, he flushed through the pitch, moved from column to haphazard column, hood drawn up, as much of his skin covered as possible to keep him invisible. He could appear from nowhere._

 _There –_

 _Body ravaged, but still alive, a creature paced. His shoulders bulked forward, his head down, fists clenched; he looked more a behemoth than a human. The damage he'd sustained to his face had made a portion of it cave, but he didn't seem to notice. Smoldering at his feet was the low glow of a dying fire, scrapped together with rogue twigs and what looked to be a flint. Randy watched in silence. He heard every single breath from the fat lips. He saw them cloud from the nose against the cold. The damp had ravaged his wounds, infected most. He could have been carved from the rubble of the fallen asylum. He seemed infected enough to be crazed._

 _From behind the pillar, Orton moved closer, shielded himself behind the nearest scramble of rock. Old vine and wet moss had crawled over its surface. His fingers gripped the slippery stone; his eyes on the monster before him. He needed to get past. The corridors narrowed to such a point that an attempt to go round could rouse attention he didn't need. His body was too weak to battle. He needed sustenance. He needed more than rats and oxygen. If only he could break open the vein like cracks in the halls and suck out all life. But there, he could see now, there was something on the floor, something human. It didn't move, its dark skin mingled with the shadow and as he peered out from around the side of the rocks, he saw, he knew. He was dead. It was hard for a human to survive without organs, without muscle and flesh. Pieces had been systematically removed, and Orton could only presume that the creature, the monster, the_ _ **Beast**_ _, had eaten them. A closer look, risking being scene, told him it was the junkster from Mullah – the one who talked to the air._

 _A piece of the stone broke off under his fingers. It hit the floor._

 _Lesnar looked round. Orton retreated. His pulse was quick and he tried to slow his heart. Men on the edge could hear the beat. He curled himself up into nothing. The shadow of the_ _ **Beast**_ _fell over him as he searched, but did not find, the source of the noise. Orton didn't breathe. He sank as low as he could into the darkness. But still Lesnar lingered, like he could_ _ **smell**_ _him. Randy slipped his fingers down, tried to grip that piece of stone which had given him away. Somehow, he managed to roll it toward him with a finger._

 _It came to his palm._

 _He held it tight, flicked it away from him. It hit off the opposing wall with a small crack. Lesnar lumbered toward the noise, a man possessed. Randy hurried from around the rocks. Past the light, but paused, still aglow, to look down at what remained of the face of the man Lesnar had devoured. In death he seemed in pain. He heard steps. Randy looked up._

 _He shouldn't have stopped._

 _Opposite him, the other side of the last of the fire, Lesnar stared at him. His tiny eyes were not made for the dark, but his other senses were ravaged by the madness he'd no doubt swallowed with the rest of Truth's flesh and the festering of his wounds. He could almost see it come off of him in a red smoke. Randy was still, smooth as the snake. Lesnar could see him, knew he was there, his breaths were great snorts of effort. His whole body moved with the motion. Lesnar's only light – only real guide came from the fire. Slowly, so slowly, Randy edged a hand into his pocket. His fingers gripped. Lesnar lurched forward. Randy retreated his hand and threw its contents toward the fire. As soon as it hit, the flames surged upward, the heat was intense and Lesnar drew back with a roar. Orton ran._

 _He only had a short head start and he could hear Lesnar come after him. The_ _ **Beast**_ _hit into walls and columns but didn't care. Randy knew that he could out run him. But what then? What happened when he reached the end of the line and Lesnar caught him? He wouldn't listen to reason. He wouldn't stop to hear sweet silver words right from the mouth of the viper. There was no point trying to be silent now. His boots hammered against the echoed floor. He shot glances behind to see the bulk of Lesnar still giving chase. His coat trailed. The cold air rushed against his exposed skin. Eyes adjusted at every run and duck and turn. There – above, the marker which told the entrance of the Halls of Fame. He'd reached Kennedy. How Lesnar had come to be in the underground he didn't know – had probably followed Reigns when he'd escaped the arena. Almost as soon as he was within the new halls, he could hear things._

 _There were more bodies than just his._

 _Lesnar didn't notice. He had his pray in his sights. He lurched – Randy dodged aside. He knew that he couldn't run any further, Lesnar was too close. He'd have to fight. He could break men's necks with their own momentum. He could attack from the darkness, from anywhere. He could do it; just another legend to kill. Randy closed his eyes just for a second. He could near feel the shadows talking to him. He could feel the air change as Lesnar charged. He could smell him, taste the sweat of his skin, he could hear the growl. Orton moved. He circled as Lesnar tried to gather himself, turned to try and sniff out his prey. Randy's mouth curved into a sickle. His tongue licked lips. Eyes were open once more. He saw the heat coming off of the_ _ **Beast**_ _. Lesnar swung a great fist. Orton barely ducked under. He reached up, grabbed that bear paw and heaved. Using his own momentum, he was thrown. Orton's muscles screamed and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The other man recovered quickly, shook his head and was on the attack once more. His great hands caught the front of Randy's coat, dragged him through the dark, another fist glanced off his chin. Dazed, Orton tucked up his legs, caught Lesnar's head in his hand and slammed his feet straight into the gut. He was dropped and scrambled to his feet and back. Lesnar doubled over, his insides crushed, and the human meat inside was raging._

 _Orton didn't give him a chance to recover. He moved to the side. He judged the distance, saw that head, knew what he had to do. He ran. When he was close enough, he smashed his boot into the side of Lesnar's head. For a moment, he didn't move. The crunch had screamed round the halls, and Randy could feel dozens of eyes on him. He knew, that once this was over, he wouldn't be standing. Lesnar roared, deafened by his own thrown equilibrium. Lesser men had been killed by that kick. The_ _ **Beast**_ _stumbled, confused, thrown, out of control. He swung his arms, tried to hit the constantly moving figure of Randy. A chance one caught him in the heart._

 _Orton fell back, eyes wide, ribs constricted and cracked. The world was sweet agony. The stony floor slammed into his back, the wind knocked from him. This was it, the last hour had come and the blood pounded in his ears. He pushed a hand against the floor, found something thin, sharp, pressed into his palm, a gift from the earth and forced himself to his feet. The darkest of minutes could end any man and he knew that he would not die so easily. He had survived so much, shed so many wounds and pressed his own brand of poison down into the veins of his enemies. He knew the feel of what was in his palm. A syringe – fallen from his own personal collection perhaps, from the belt that wrapped around his waist. What did it matter? Dirty needle or dirty poison of Orton's own designs could be what ended them both. He could see Lesnar – his damn eyes near glowed in the dark. He seemed incapable of words, reduced to an animal. There was only one thing to. With a roar, Randy hurled himself forward. Lesnar came at him. Orton ducked low and skidded among the dirt and the wet. He near fell but steadied himself with a hand, was up, and flung himself onto the brute's back. He clung on for dear life. Lesnar shook and he grabbed at him with those massive hands. Blows struck Orton's head and arms and sides but he held on with everything he had. The syringe between his teeth. He didn't have enough grip, could feel himself slipping. Lesnar slammed him back, straight into the crumbling wall. His spine buckled, his head span as it hit, but that moment, that second he had leverage. He snatched the syringe from his mouth and slammed it straight into the side of Lesnar's throat – right into the jugular._

 _The scream was unearthly. It shook the foundations of Kennedy. Such a sound had never been heard on earth. It shot through the cracks in the walls and the world seemed to shake. Orton didn't let go. He pushed down harder as the ceiling above started to crumble. He jerked the needle free and slammed it through the skin again, again, again. The world turned sideways and they hit the floor, Orton's legs trapped by the weight. He tore the syringe free and with a roar, plunged it into the beetle eye of Brock Lesnar. His thumb squeezed the contents down, down. The agony that spewed from Lesnar's mouth frothed. He drowned on his own pain. Orton didn't let go, couldn't, even as the exhaustion started to blot out his sight, his breath heaved as the other man's slowed and when he couldn't hold on any longer, he released his grip._

 _Held in place, his leg throbbed, he couldn't move. He opened and closed his eyes, tried to gather back his senses before they disappeared completely. He heard feet come closer, saw feet just in the field of his extraordinary vision. He could hear a dozen or so close in. He tried to shield his eyes with a limp arm as something bright came over him, shot hot white light all around. He hissed, hands plastered over his sockets, blinded. There were mutters, he heard curses, he heard threats, he heard it all silenced when a new pair of feet came forward. He peered through the gaps in his fingers as someone was illuminated. He burned in the light, and the eyes that looked upon him were not gentle. They belonged to a man battle-hardened and weary of the existence he lived._

' _ **Bryan,**_ _' he snarled._

 _The bearded man jerked his head. Obediently, hands came forward, and all together they heaved Lesnar off of Randy. He gasped in quick elation as his lungs inflated and his foot twitched. Nothing broken, he'd been too lucky. Almost as fast as they body was gone, those hands were on him. They grabbed his shoulders, his arms; they pulled back the hood to expose his smooth skull, bulleted by the grit from the fall. Bryan came through the light, reached up to inspect the injuries. He gripped Orton's chin without sympathy, turned his head this way and that._

' _ **So rough,**_ _' Orton chided._

' _ **Missing something, Orton?**_ _' Bryan asked, and tapped the side of his head where his ear had been sliced clean off._

' _ **A gift from your precious bride,**_ _' he snarled in retaliation._

 _The sheer mention of Brie found his legs kicked out from underneath him by one powerful move. Bryan may have been smaller, but he was strong. It was so delightful to see the malice in his eyes, the wish to cause pain to those who hunted him. Oh Randy had hunted the bearded man, he'd driven him down into the very dust he knelt in. The hand which had held him gripped harder, as if he wished to tear the chin from his skull._

' _ **You saw her?**_ _'_

' _ **I did better,**_ _' Randy said smugly, '_ _ **I wrestled with your bitch in the sands of Buchanan. I tasted her blood,' he licked his lips, 'delicious.**_ _'_

 _The fury was beautiful. The sheer desire to destroy him – he could see it all there in those eyes. The balance that had been created in the lives of the Movement was about to be thrown – all by the words of a snake. He could see the fracture already forming, he could guess what would happen to him and he could imagine how he'd escape it all. They were all forsaken in the Shield's war. Bryan drew back a fist, but as it reached its peak, as it barreled forward –_

' _ **She's quite the fighter Bryan. I can see how she survived so long.**_ _'_

' _ **She's alive?**_ _' Bryan's fist stopped and his eyes narrowed in suspicion._

' _ **As the plague. She's dancing with a new crowd now. Playing with Seth Rollins and some girl they picked up on the way. Your Ziggler ain't done shit. She's the one protecting them all. I have to hand it to you Bryan...she's**_ **divine** _ **...**_ _'_

 _He deserved the smack. But the sting just made his smile grow. He bucked a little against the hands which held him. '_ _ **Touchy, about your wife, Bryan? I can understand why...all these years and she had no idea you were alive. Tsk, tsk. What a terrible husband you are. But that's all behind us now that she knows the truth.**_ _'_

 _Bryan lapsed. '_ _ **She knows?**_ _'_

' _ **You didn't expect your blond rat to keep quiet did you?**_ _'_

 _The pain inside – Orton just wanted to suck the mirth straight out of the man. How it would have tasted. The dying spark inside the man was confused, whether or not to burn or to go out. How he'd failed at his duties as a husband. How he'd betrayed her, made her think she was alone for so long. He was not the hero the people wanted and needed. He was just a little man, standing on a metaphorical box, shouting the words that could give some kind of hope – that wonderful, delicious hope that Orton just loved to crush down to a whisper._

' _ **She's waiting for you Bryan. She's waiting in Buchanan. You might want to hurry. She's awful close to that Rollins. She seems to have forgiven him for killing you. If you're not fast enough, you might be too late. I saw how he looked at her.**_ _'_

 _Lies – his own special poison that came from that tongue of his. But he had seen something between the Seth and Brie. There was a trust there, something deeper than the friendship it first appeared. How rare for a woman to fall in so deep with her husband's murderer._

' _ **Bind him.**_ _'_

' _ **I wouldn't do that if I were you,'** Orton hissed as those hands made to tie his own. **'If you want to get to her before they move on, you'll need my help Bryan. No one can get through these corridors faster than me.**_ _'_

 _Next to Bryan was another man. His hood was drawn low and Orton knew who he was – the man who'd bombed the asylum. So he was with the Movement. No shock. He pulled Bryan back by the shoulder as Randy's hands were snapped together. He grunted, strained his hands against the cuffs as the two men spoke. Bryan nodded slowly to his comrade and stepped forward, in the light you could see how he'd aged. Clearly rebellion didn't make you any younger. He could see the cracks in the corners of his eyes, the lack of soul reflected back at him. He may have crawled out of that grave, but he'd been dead from the moment he'd left his wife._

' _ **You killed Lesnar Orton. I'm impressed.**_ _'_

' _ **We didn't get along.'**_

' _ **So sad to hear,**_ _'_

' _ **Can't please everyone,**_ _'_

' _ **Brie would have come to me – why Buchanan?**_ _'_

' _ **The Shield are waiting for you. They want your help, Bryan. They want to kill the king.**_ _'_


	5. Asleep In The Sun

**((We've reached over 3,30 views! I'm so proud and privileged that people are taking the time to read what happens next to our boys. I hope that everyone is enjoying** _ **Release The Hounds**_ **so far, and that you also enjoy this newest update. I'd love to know what you think))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 **|| BUCHANAN** North Capitol

The sounds were incredible and they should have known that they didn't have time to sit down and make a plan. The new hoards would come. They couldn't stay. They couldn't stay and they knew it, they knew that it would kill them all. The shelter was about to buckle and already Stardust cradled his brother, telling him to wake up, why wouldn't he wake up, couldn't he see the stars? They couldn't tell him, how could they say, that the brother he'd survived with so long in the wasteland was gone, all because of them?

Roman licked at the blood which ran from the corner of his mouth. The first explosion had thrown them all. Buchanan had burned once at the hands of the Authority, now they wanted it wiped from the face of the earth. They wanted to do whatever they had to, to ensure that the Shield were dead and gone. The world shook, thunder in their ears, dust in their eyes.

'We have to go, we can't stay, we have to get out of here.'

'But Daniel -,'

'Brie we can't stay,' Seth grabbed her hand. He looked her dead in the eyes, didn't blink even as another explosion shook. 'If we do all he'll find is your body half buried in the sand. What do you think would break him more?'

Whoever was above ground was relentless.

None of them could tell if it was one man or hundreds. They could have escaped into a mine field, they could have been faced with a thousand guns, all trained on them, but if they didn't get out now, they'd be buried alive.

The explosions had started as all of them had drifted into a sleep, hot in the afternoon sun, and woken into a hellish nightmare. The fear was real, it oozed inside and it sweated out through every pour. They could have been frozen and it would have been the same. Roman had always known what it felt like to be afraid – to know that he could lose it all in a single moment if he didn't hold on tightly enough. He'd never said to Seth the reason why he'd said no to joining the Shield all those years ago – he'd been so scared he'd grow too close, and that he'd fail, lose them...all over again. He'd never been able to keep people safe, had always tried. He'd seen too men good men die. He didn't want another pair of ghostly eyes watching his back. But he'd failed because he'd allowed himself to care, to love the two men as brothers.

Seth had cut deep when he'd said that Roman had just let Renee and Dean leave. It wasn't that simple. It wasn't that easy. He'd known from the second she looked at him that it wasn't his decision to make, that there would have been no way to stop Dean, because he would have escaped as soon as their eyes had turned. Reflection didn't have a place in a war zone. He knew that better than any of them.

'Brother, we have to go,' Seth's hand was on his shoulder and brought Roman back to their very real world. 'Come on,'

Curled up on the floor, scarred face only on his brother, he saw Stardust, he heard him call Goldust's name. Another explosion, the shelter – they had to get out. Roman lunged forward and gripped Stardust's arm, but he was thrown away.

'We have to go!' he shouted.

But it fell on deaf ears. 'Come on!'

He couldn't leave him behind. Roman tried to get a hold of the other man. Stardust looked at him. He was smiling but there was nothing in his eyes. He saw everything. And in a hail of memories, of bullets and screams, he saw Dean's body punctured, he saw him falling and Seth crying out, he felt hands grip his wrist and pull him backward, through time and through the shelter toward the exit. Stardust heaved his unmoving brother into his lap, held him close and laughed as the foundations rumbled and the den collapsed.

'No,' Roman stared down at where it had been; where it had sunk down and disappeared into the sand like it had never been there. He shuffled through the dust and dirt and started to dig, eyes wide. He was still down there. He couldn't just leave him.

'Roman we have to go! We don't have time!'

'He's still down there!'

'Get a hold of him!'

Hands, pairs of hands on his shoulders and arms; they heaved him back from the sinkhole, from where a man drowned in sand. Something hit. The explosion blew them all back, fire and pain seared his skin. He hit the ground hard, a thousand particles of sand stuck in his raw skin and he couldn't hear. The pounding in his ears could have been his heart or his lifeblood. He'd been stuck in hell before. A high pitch mottled his hearing. The world felt slow. He tried to push himself up from the sand, saw the bodies of his friends laid out. Seth –

He didn't know where he was, what part of him hurt, but he crawled forward on bleeding elbows, closer, closer to the brother he'd lost and found. Seth wasn't moving.

'Seth?' his fingers reached out, cut and blistered. They touched his brother's face. They dragged Roman's body foreword. He could feel the pain inside but it didn't figure, it was background noise. He could feel the earth shake as death came closer and closer and all he could see was Seth. All he could see was his brother and he touched his cheek with shaking hands and covered his body with his own. He had to protect him. He had to wake up. He had to. He had to. 'Brother wake up, come on, wake up.' He shook him. 'Seth!'

'Roman!'

He heard Brie. He felt her touch and he heard her scream, felt her body crumple down next to him. But he was blind to her. 'Seth.' Roman's hands were on both sides of his brother's face. He bent his head to his heart. Nothing. Nothing and everything all at once. A howling shook straight through the earth and he turned his head and he saw Brie, choking out life, blood splattered her body.

'Reigns!'

Dolph – stood tall, alive – why him, of all of them? He jerked, red flew from his chest, splattered Roman's face as he fell to his knees, fell down and starred at him, accusing, dying.

'Seth, Seth come on, we have to go, we gotta go. Seth come on.'

He tried to shift his hands underneath him, managed to heave him up onto his shoulder, complete dead weight. All the weight in the entire fucking world. He started to move, but Brie looked up at him, her shaking hand reached up. He took it, he took it and with a grunt of effort he dragged her onto his other shoulder. His breath shook and he stepped through the sand. His equilibrium thrown by the explosions, he didn't know where he was going...saw only the half-baked world, the melted road in the heat of the day. He had to stop next to Dolph, he looked down, and saw that face, the beaten, ruined face, the shot out chest.

'Reigns!'

The word didn't come from him.

There was a rumble. One of the massive jeeps, abandoned by the dead cops near knocked into him, skidded to a halt inches away. The door smacked open – Cena.

'What are you waiting for?' he roared. He snatched Brie from him like she weighed nothing. Carefully, as if he were made of glass, Roman laid Seth into the back. His eyes flicked behind to Dolph. Dead or alive, he didn't deserve to be left behind. 'Reigns!'

He didn't listen as he ran back.

'Reigns!'

Roman felt every demon claw at his back and his chest and his throat. The world exploded and he felt as if the life were being dragged through his spine, everything hurt, his face burned and when he heaved Ziggler up from the sand and across his shoulders, he knew that he couldn't escape the world he'd tried to leave behind. He signed up for glory, had found nothing but ghosts and tried to run from them, but he'd found justice instead. The path to both was bloody and cracked. He stumbled back to the jeep. He somehow managed to get Dolph into the passenger seat. No room for him. He gripped the door and the rim and he held on for all he was worth. Cena started the jeep and it roared and spat sand and span its wheels. It hurtled forward as another blast rattled the metal.

It buckled as it hit the fractured road.

He felt his grip slip.

He fell.

Something caught him. Bloody, barely breathing and straining for all that he was worth – Dolph. There was nothing in his eyes, raw instinct alone clutched a hold of Roman and pulled him back in. He clutched his arm across his red torso and didn't let go. Refused. Roman found a footing, his free hand managed to grip a hold of the rails on top of the jeep. The wind rushed past his skin and carried the sounds and the heat and the memories away from him. But as the bombs began to dull, his eyes flicked behind, to the back seat.

It only took minutes to escape Buchanan. It felt like hours.

Cena pulled them off at random, at the first signs of trees daring to shoot up through the earth. They were naked and hot in the clouded warmth and the autumn. Thick enough to hide them but not to give them hope. Roman didn't wait for the jeep to stop, he hit the ground running as Cena skidded to a halt. He opened the door and heaved Seth out onto the cracked earth, into the sparse green sprigs of grass that somehow survived. Nothing. No sign of anything.

'Seth,' he shook him, 'come on brother, come on you gotta get up. We have to go.'

'Reigns -,'

He ignored the other man. He closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing but the panic was too great, the fear too strong. He searched him over, he looked at his face and his cupped his hands round it and placed an ear to Seth's heart. Nothing. The silence was overwhelming.

'Reigns -,'

Roman shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. He laced his cut fingers together, flat against his brother's chest, started to compress. Over and over. He put force and strength and every single drop of the will and blood left in his body into it. He didn't look away. He kept his eyes on Seth's face. He thought he could hear thunder but it could have been his own heart flat lining and it wouldn't have made a single difference to him. Seth's body juddered with the force and he thought he could feel ribs crack beneath his palms.

'Seth come on!' it came through gritted teeth. Frustration poured through his pores and out of his eyes. Was that rain? Was it blood? Sweat? He didn't know. He didn't care. A storm could have swallowed him whole and it wouldn't matter because he was already dead. He pushed all his will through those hands, pushed his spirit, soul, his everlasting strength, he gave him everything. The killer inside him cried and the child deep inside screamed as he continued to strain and beat against his ribs. 'Brother come on, I need you to wake up.'

'Reigns -,'

He ignored him.

He wouldn't listen.

He wouldn't stop.

Couldn't stop.

 _Seth._

 _Seth please._

 _I need you._

'Seth!' he roared it. But Seth didn't hear him. Roman's breathing deepened, he couldn't stand it, couldn't think. His body covered his brothers as if he could drag him up through the earth and back into the world that they both tried to live in. He would have killed. He would have destroyed. He'd give his own life.

'Seth!' he raised one great fist into the air, it fell.

 _Wanna know why I call ya Superman Rome?_

Knuckles smashed straight into Seth's heart.

He buckled with the power.

He hit the earth.

Still.

'Seth...' he couldn't – he couldn't fail again. He couldn't give up. He couldn't – he couldn't live. Roman's body bowed over his brothers, he pulled his head to his chest, he held him close, cradled him. A kiss to his temple. 'I'm so sorry brother.'

He swallowed. He heard knees next to him on the ground. A face came into view, her hair fell low, her shoulder blasted through. Tears in her eyes as there were in his. She cried for the man who murdered her husband. She cried for the friend she'd found in the dark. The ally in the fight. She cried for the brother who lay there. He looked so untouched. Like he'd fallen asleep in the sun. She reached out a hand, she stroked the hair on his head.

'Don't -,'

The rain swelled around them, wet them through. It kissed the dirt skin of Seth Rollins. He looked as if he flinched as it hit his cheek.

'Seth -,'

He didn't speak, he didn't stir. But Roman felt something against his chest. The rise and fall of a breath. His mind was playing tricks, giving him false hope. Brie's fingers caught in the brown tussles again and he knew he couldn't be imagining the movement. The twitch of Seth's face. He moved back, gave him air, laid him down, took his head and held it so tight. 'Seth open your eyes, look at me brother.'

Brie took Seth's hand.

'Seth?' she whispered. She leaned in close, to his lips, she kissed him gently. 'Come home honey,'

She drew back. Seth shook, his chest expanded, his eyes opened and a great gasp of breath was snatched from the storm. Over and over he took great lung full after lung full. His panicked eyes found Roman and he clutched a hold of his arm, his hair, whatever he could. Roman couldn't contain it. He couldn't hold it in. The rain slicked his hair and dripped off onto Seth's face, his eyes dense, heavy as a flood, his heart on the verge of collapsing. He smiled, sad, elated, every emotion collided as a peel of thunder rumbled over head.

'Rome -,' his voice shook. 'Rome -,'

'It's ok,' Roman shook his head. Next to him Brie couldn't stop the smile that graced her beautiful face. She laughed against the tears and she bent down and planted kisses all over Seth's skin. She didn't care for the dirt for the blood on her own body, the injury she suffered. 'It's ok we're here.'

'Geddoff Brie,' Seth muttered. He sounded exhausted, confused. But he was there, he was alive.

'Reigns -,'

Roman looked over his shoulder, unable to stop the relieved smile on his mouth. Cena stood behind him, just next to the passenger door of the jeep. It hung open, crooked from where he'd clung on for dear life. Inside, slumped in his seat, was Dolph. His eyes were half closed. His body bled dry.

'He saved me,' Roman said. He looked from Seth to Brie to Cena and back to Dolph. He'd been so intent on saving Seth...that he'd let Dolph die in his stead. Guilt curdled his gut. Roman Reigns...had failed to save a life. To save brothers in a shelter, to save the man who'd pulled him from the brink. He'd failed. All the pain and the anguish followed him wherever he went. People were safer without him in their lives. He was a selfish bastard. He clung to them all because he didn't want to be alone. And now they suffered because they were near him. But as he looked down to Seth, to where his head was in Brie's lap, to where the rain rolled down Seth's skin...he knew he would do it again.

'What do we do Rome?' Brie whispered.

He didn't know.

They'd found a new patch of ground, away from where the Yes Movement would be headed, away from where Renee and Dean expected them to be. They'd become as fractured as the road. He felt someone take his hand. Seth's shaking fingers clutched his. The rain was warm but the world felt ice cold. What next? Where did they go?

'We get Dean and Renee. We should never have let them go in the first place. We bring our family back together, for good.'


	6. Down The Rabbit Hole

**((Hello everyone! I'm sorry about the delay – I've recently had surgery and I'm still recovering. Updates will come, but slowly due to it also being December and a very busy time of the year! Here is a chapter to tide you all over! I hope that everyone enjoys it and that I can update again for you soon! As always I'd love to know what you think!))**

 **SEPTEMBER** 17 || **EXOTIC EXPRESS** En Route To Jefferson, North West Capitol

Never in her life was she so angry. The rage scorched her skin and boiled her blood and there weren't enough metaphors in the whole of the _universe_ to describe what she felt. She'd screamed herself hoarse when they'd dragged her onto that bus. She'd fought and ripped and torn and stabbed and kicked and shouted and swore and spat. All the while the nutter with the abs and the lollipop fetish had smiled. He'd laughed at her. He'd treated her like an insubordinate child and that just wasn't cricket. She was a _woman_. She deserved respect. After all the shit she'd been through, she refused to be beaten by a lemon in leather pants. They'd dumped her in the lower level of the bus, on a bed that was too soft, too smelly, too everything. She wasn't having any of it when some of the male party goers tried it on with her. Two broken noses and blue balls later they'd learned their lesson – but those smiles remained perfectly carved into their faces. It was like they couldn't stop. She wasn't there to be used – they didn't seem to know who they were, what they were. They danced when they heard the music. They smiled because that was what they did. Their eyes stared vacantly as if no one were home.

One of the females, dressed as a flamingo, threw a dress at her. Backless and sparkling, it was pretty, expensive, and she ripped it to absolute pieces. She used her teeth, her hands, and her legs to tear the whole thing to dusters. She earned a slap for that. They brought her another outfit – a tiny sailor costume that she was more than sure was _not_ military issue. This one she attempted to shove down the throat of the flamingo. She tried to escape, but found her way blocked by a chess piece and a chef. What was with the fancy dress? They picked her up and hauled her back to the bed. Its cushions were purple, numerous and so fluffy she felt allergies coming on.

' **What do you want?** ' she roared. Her hands felt empty. They'd snatched the _Dirty Deeds_ gloves from her, and who knew where Brie's razor was. She felt guilty – she'd dropped her friend's prized possession. She'd lost it. She balled her fists and raised them threateningly as more dancers surrounded the bed. ' **Leave me alone!** '

' **Shh,** ' the flamingo lifted a finger to her lips.

For a second, Renee thought she saw something flash through the other woman's eyes – urgency. It could have been a trick of the light – there were mirrors on the ceiling, sequins sowed into the wall, disco lights and glitter balls everywhere. But she was so sure of what she'd seen; she sank back into the bed. The other party goers gave her one solitary nod. The bed was actually comfortable, really comfortable. The silk sheets were soft on her bloody skin. Unsure, she slipped under the covers, but sat bolt upright. She looked at each of the terrifying faces in turn. The flamingo, pointed to the left. Next to the bed was a small table. On it was a bottle. Stuck to it, was a label: _drink me_.

' **What the hell is this? Some screwed up Wonderland? What's going on here? Who** _ **are**_ **you people?** '

The flamingo's eyes widened a little. Her tongue moved in her mouth like she was trying to talk, but nothing came out. A cold realization crept into Renee's mind. These people were just as much prisoners on the bus as she was. She opened her mouth to say something, but the partiers all collectively shook their heads, raised a hand in tandem and pointed to the bottle. Renee swallowed, hands hesitant, and reached out. She took the glass bottle in hand and pulled out the lid. The liquid inside stank. Slowly, she lifted it to her lips. She poured. It tasted of cherries. It slipped down her throat, thick as cough syrup. She took every last drop.

' **Well?** '

She didn't feel any different.

She didn't feel anything crazy.

She didn't feel...anything at all.

She didn't close her eyes.

But she slept.

* * *

He wasn't entirely sure where, who or what he was.

The world was turning and he was sure he was with it, stuck in a gyroscope of mottled colors and light which moved so quick everything was a blur. He could see it all through gummed up vision. He could taste it all – sugary sweet and hot to his swollen tongue. His head pounded harder than the bass drum which thudded from elevated speakers. There was some kind of witchcraft at work. He was sure of it. It had to be – something cult like. Where was she? Where were her fucking buzzards? Was that them squawking at him? Here was a new kind of heat – the sort conjured up by the sweating bodies of half-cocked lovers, stuck between a rock and a hard place, trying to get off but too tense, too panicked to get more than wet inside and out.

Inside he felt fucking _alive_.

Like he'd been hooked up to a car battery and recharged. He was a rocket – he could blast off there and then! He could fly to mars! He could be the greatest astronaut there had ever been! Yeah! See him fly! See him glide! See him fall! See him crash into the earth at an astounding speed and suffer fatal internal injuries and die prematurely as the high crumbled into hell. His heart hammered, his throat dried out, sickness boiled in his belly once more and he gagged. His head hung. His hair stuck to his skin in salty wet strands. He felt suspended in reality, ready to spin all over again. What – what was that?

A massive white head with massive eyes and massive ears stared at him. It grinned at him. It came closer, closer. Everything about it moved. The head slid in and out of existence. The ears grew and shrank. The eyes seemed to burst forward and shoot straight through his own and into the banged up and damaged brain that sat fat inside of his busted skull. What had happened? What was this? An alien? A friend? A...rabbit?

Dean frowned, tried to rub his tight forehead but his limbs didn't obey. What was this? Madness? Had he finally found his way to Wonderland? Was the white rabbit here to collect him and drag him down the rabbit hole into the world where chaos and nonsense and blood and guts and cannibalism and mixed up minds didn't matter. He would be accepted by everybody in a brave old world where he could hack and slice with a vorpal blade and could ride into the sunset because everyone would think him a hero for being the ultimate killer. He'd met an Alice once. She didn't survive long. They'd always told him she wasn't real – but if he was seeing the rabbit, then he knew his Alice must have been as well.

Logic.

' **Whaddayawant?** '

The rabbit cocked it's head to one side. Blank face. Too happy. Too fucking happy. He didn't want to look at something like that. It'd be enough to drive a man crazy! Ha! Imagine! Imagine him to be fucking crazy. Imagine Dean Ambrose as the mad man. Oops too fucking late. But he wasn't mad. No. Oh no. His eyes just liked to play games. They made up dead women and animal people just to confuse him, keep him on his toes. That fucking music wouldn't shut up. It was too loud. It pumped in through his ears, slammed against his brain, made him listen when he really didn't want to. He didn't do music. Never had. Didn't understand it. It was noise. Noise. So. Much. Constant. Noise. He thrashed his body to try and get up and run, but nothing worked. Nothing moved. He was denied it all. And all the while the bunny watched him. It stared at him, straight through him, like he didn't exist. Well he did. He wasn't the invisible man. He was there. He was alive. He was kicking and screaming and he opened his mouth to empty his lungs and all that came out was...nothing. Nothing at all. All the words tumbled down from his brain and stuck to his tongue like super glue. Addled and confused he tried to focus his sights on that fucking rabbit. He was there. So close he could reach out and touch him. Something furry came toward him, a hand, paw, hand, whatever the fuck bunnies had. It touched his face. It was soft and warm and he kind of liked it. But no – this was a fucking rabbit. A rabbit person. It was touching him...and it felt good. It felt safe and gentle and he was tired of all the rough shit for ten hours. He pressed his cheek into the curve of the hand. But no sooner did his eyes close, ready to drift once more, it was gone.

His lids flashed open and he found something far more humanoid and far more shitty in front of him. That long hair needed ripping out of that skull. That lollipop stick would have been more at home in an eye than the sneering mouth. Maybe that was what he would do. Could you taste through your eyes? What a fun experiment. The white rabbit could help him. He could become the nefarious side of the queen of hearts. Sister Abigail and her beastly ways inside his mind could manifest as something more than just violence and hunger.

Or –

' **Fuck off shit head.** '

Or he could he just conjure up a playground insult. He finally felt something in his arms. It was the urge to punch something.

Of all the things he wanted to come into focus, Adam Rose's face was not one of them. Oh he remembered who the man was, just as he remembered that needles were sharp like the pain in his head. Rose said something, but it was drowned out by the music which deafened. Dean tried to shake his head, but he felt stuck in place, like he'd been coated in stone. Something was familiar about his face. Maybe he belonged to the same sick bloodline as Regal with his smart suits and his half torn skin. The bloody mask of the man who'd tried to take his brain was still a fond memory, but not what he'd done. Regal had taken AJ from him. Rose had stolen Renee. Renee – where was she? He strained to look around Rose but all he could see where brightly colored party lights, streamers and swathing bodies.

Rose reached out. Dean flinched. Something came away from his head. Almost as soon as they dead a high pitch screamed in his ears. He shook his head, tried to get rid of it. Rose was talking again, but it was too dull to hear. The frown imprinted into Dean's forehead deepened. He didn't want to listen to the man. But he had to find Renee. Where was he? On that blasted black bus?

' **...Mr Ambrose. But I must say, I'm surprised. Most would stay under the effects of my dust for much longer. You must be extremely tolerant to drugs.** '

' **Force-fed enough,** ' Dean grunted. In Rose's hands, were a set of headphones. He'd been wearing them? He could barely hear a fucking thing. Rose was too close for comfort. He smelled of cum and posies. ' **Where's Renee?** '

' **Sleeping,** ' Rose answered cheerfully. ' **Sleeping like a baby, she was exhausted. But then, I would be too after all that screaming. Gave me a headache, so I gave her a little something...she won't bother us. But you Mr Ambrose. You interest me. You interest me a lot. I'd perfected my dust, and yet you come round from it in less than an hour? Your body...** 'he looked Dean up and down, ' **must be a chemical brewery to cope with something so strong so quickly. So I've decided something. I would like to keep you Dean Ambrose.** '

' **I'm not for sale.** '

' **Oh come now you're starting to sound like a broken record.** ' Rose said impatiently. He pulled the lollipop from his mouth and tapped Dean's nose with it, leaving a sticky residue. ' **Besides, you don't really have much of a choice. You see, this is my bus. And no one leaves my bus without my permission, and I certainly don't give it to you. Besides, you're a little too tied up to go too far. If you'll observe, Mr Ambrose, your arm.** '

Dean turned his heavy head.

' **The other arm.** '

Effort. With a grunt he looked to his right. He'd not noticed before, but something was implanted into his arm, a catheter. The tube at the end was hooked up to another and hooked up to something else which disappeared off into a pair of net curtains. His arms were held in place by what looked to be bright orange stereo chord, which as he could now see, hooked up to the headphones in Rose's hand. He was upright, no chair for Ambrose. But his legs couldn't quite hold his weight so he slouched, arms stuck out to the side. Not comfortable. At all. With a hiss of effort he tried to stand properly, but his legs gave out.

' **That, Mr Ambrose contains vital fluids and vitamins to keep you alive. But with just a flick of a button,** ' he pointed to the left arm, ' **I can draw out your blood.** '

' **Ain't nothing in my blood worth keeping,** ' Dean growled.

' **That's not true. I've tested you Ambrose. You're O Negative. Do you know what that means? That your blood is universal, anyone can have it. And that includes me.** '

' **Why -,** '

' **Look at me, Mr Ambrose. Do I look well? Do I look healthy?** ' he looked like a shriveled up prune. With a dead weasel on its head. ' **Too much love can kill you Mr Ambrose. My blood has been dirtied. Give me a reason to keep you alive, and I will. Or I'll drain you dry.** '

' **Trying to live forever Rose?** '

' **Immortality is no joke Ambrose. Some of us are kings among men. You have proven that you can tolerate drug abuse that would kill any other man. I'm interested in having a taste of such an ability.** '

' **Thinking of taking my stomach too? Me liver? How about my last kidney? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Can't a man keep all his pieces anymore?** ' he snarled. He urged his arms against the cord, but relaxed when he felt his hands go numb. ' **What's this about Rose?** '

For a moment, Adam Rose didn't say anything, as if thinking about whether or not Dean deserved an answer.

' **I make my living through the selling of commodities. Pretty commodities and useful commodities. Some people will pay very well for a sweet face and a tight ass. I thought about selling you on to the highest bidder before you showed signs of life. I'm sure there are people out there who'd love to see Dean Ambrose suck cock.** '

Dean kicked out. It was well timed, well aimed. His foot smacked straight into Rose's groin. The other man didn't cry out. For a moment he tilted his head back, and then released breath, as if in some kind of ecstasy. ' **You have so much fight in you Dean, it's delicious.** '

' **Sick fucker,** '

' **I'm keeping you Dean, because my last toy broke too easily. Her blood was good but all she did was cry. So when I was done with her, I passed her on in Kennedy. But you – I can test all my wonderful products on you and I know that I can control you Dean. Because if you misbehave, I can hurt your girlfriend, or I can hurt you.** '

' **Leave her alone Rose. Let her go.** '

Rose laughed, ' **Oh Ambrose. You're so naive. Why on earth would I do that? She's** _ **beautiful**_ **. Do you know what I could make through selling her on? In Jefferson I open my doors to the highest bidder, and whoever wins will claim her. And when he's done, she'll be back on this bus until the next city.** ' He shrugged and popped the lolly back between his teeth. ' **She has her uses. But you have so much more. You'll be my little Frankenstein Monster when I'm done with you.** '

' **My blood won't be any use to you if you fill me up with drugs. You're not making sense Rose.** '

' **Sense?** ' he laughed. He laughed and he laughed. ' **Do you know what doesn't make sense? I've been through bodies and bodies, new blood after new blood and none of them have fixed me Dean. None of the universal donors have gifted me with life! But you're different. I know it. If your blood can tolerate the dust, the drugs, then I know that you're the one who will change my life.** '

 _They say the definition of insanity, is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results._

' **Let me go.** ' Dean tugged against the cords. ' **Let me go, or I swear that when I break free, you and all your little friends will regret the day you laid hands on me. I'll make you pay. I'll make you suffer. I'll rip you open and drain every drop of your shitty blood through the floor. Touch me and I'll tear out your heart. I've done it before Rose. I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of ultra-violence. That's what I was bred for. I'm a scumbag, I'm rotten to the core and I will destroy you.** '

' **So eloquent; you know people say you're mad Ambrose.** '

' **They're wrong.** '

' **Of course they are,** ' he said, pity dripped from his voice. ' **But that's alright,** ' he leaned in close, his head next to Dean's ear, ' **because we're all mad here.** '

Dean bucked against him, shoved him away, but Rose just laughed at him. He held those headphones, poised to set them back in place. ' **I'll keep you sweet Ambrose. By the time I'm done, you'll** _ **love**_ **me. You'll never want to leave. I'll be your God, and you'll fall at my feet and** _ **beg**_ **for my attentions.** '

He jerked his head. The rabbit was back. One of the paws of the bunny suit had been removed. A skinny hand held something, a needle. Dean flinched back.

' **No. No syringes.** '

' **Oh now Dean do be a grown up. I have it on good authority that you'll just** _ **love**_ **what's in store.** ' Rose crossed his arms, the headphones hung from a finger. ' **I've been told that it's your favorite.** '

 _No. No. No more. None of that._

' **Stop -,** ' he was ignored. The syringe punctured the skin on his arm. The liquid addiction inside flowed quickly and cold. He felt the effects coming on, the comforting arm of an old friend. The back breaking embrace which clouded his mind. He felt his body die. He felt his mind close. It never took long. He could try and fight it but he knew he'd lose. That sweet, shocking, sickly special K. He couldn't deny it – the most insistent of desires.

Rose looked on approvingly as Dean crumbled.

' **That's better.** ' He came close, ready to put the headphones back on. ' **We'll be the best of friends Dean. You'll see. Closer than lovers, your blood will flow in my veins. You'll be everything I need...and I'll be everything you crave.** ' He forced the headphones back onto his head.

The music blared as Dean's eyes drooped. His vision started to blur as Rose walked away from him. The rabbit lingered. That hand reached out once more. It touched his cheek, warm, soft, safe skin. He hated and loved the feeling all at once. The touch felt too safe in a den of demons and he wanted to push it away. The eyes of the rabbit mask stared and he wanted to know what human hid inside. What person fell too far down that rabbit hole, and couldn't help but become what they'd chased.

' **Help...me...** ' he whispered.

But he couldn't hear his own voice. He couldn't feel a thing. The world drifted once more, a new nightmare brought to life. The colors swirled and the psychedelic sounds and visions curled in his head, festered and poisoned his sights. He hung in the web of cord. Spit crept at the corner of his mouth. The rabbit lingered. It was the last thing he saw before the special K seized his body and his mind and plunged him into madness.

* * *

' **Renee?** '

Something felt wrong.

Next to her – a body that hadn't been there before. It was too close. It was too warm. She could smell sweat and she ached. Her eyes were dry and she could barely move. She turned her head and heard the bones in her neck crack. Her mouth was frozen open, lips dry, throat dry, everything so very dry. Her heart stuttered.

' **Roman?** ' she whispered. There, he was there, this beautiful, heavenly creature. He looked at her with such softness. He looked with her with such...hunger. She swallowed, her heat hammered, her pulse quickened. ' **Roman...how did you get here?** '

' **It doesn't matter,** ' he shook his head, that mane of hair flowed. No, of course it didn't matter. He was there, that was all that mattered. She sat up, felt her back strain and she threw her arms around his neck. She held him so close.

' **Where are the others?** '

' **They're nearby. Everyone is safe.** '

' **Roman...something terrible has happened. We have to find Dean, he's in trouble, I know he is.** '

' **Dean's fine.** '

' **How'd you know?** '

' **I found him earlier. He's more than fine.** '

She bit the inside of her cheek, and pulled back the covers. ' **Maybe I should check on him -,** '

' **No.** ' He pushed her back down onto the bed. ' **No.** '

' **No?** '

' **Stay.** '

' **But -,** '

He silenced her objections with a kiss. Deep, passionate, it took her breath away. She felt her will melt. Her fingers drifted into his hair. Her eyes closed. Sweet ecstasy on his tongue as he licked her lips. He held her roughly. He trailed those kisses down her throat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move as his fingers caught the fabric of the police shirt she wore. He took it in his great hands, ripped it in two. The simple black bra she didn't feel sexy enough, but he didn't care. He took her breast in his palm. Renee shuddered under his intense touch. He pulled down the fabric. He leaned his head close, traced her nipple with his hot tongue. She could feel everything – it was vibrant, every feeling, every desire imploding.

' **Roman -,** ' she could only say his name. Nothing else was in her mind. All she could see, all she could feel, was him. He kept his mouth locked on her breast, his hand trailed down her stomach to the top of her pants. She gripped his head in her hands. She wanted his kisses – more kisses. She wanted his mouth. But he didn't move. He'd cemented himself in place. He did as he willed. His fingers made quick work of the button and zip. They found the lace of her panties. Smooth hand slipped under the elastic.

She froze.

' **Roman...kiss me.** '

But he wouldn't.

' **Roman please,** ' she tried to sit up, but his weight held her down. ' **Roman, please...stop.** '

Something didn't feel right.

He wouldn't look at her.

He wouldn't kiss her.

Roman, didn't have smooth hands.

Fingers crawled lower, deeper.

' **Stop!** ' her hand felt for something, anything. It grasped the neck of that glass bottle. ' **I said stop!** ' and she swung.

The glass shattered against the head. The body bucked up, hand to head.

Not Roman.

Adam Rose.

' **You bastard! You arsehole! Get away from me! Get the fuck away from me!** ' she screamed. She looked down at herself, quickly did up her pants and scrambled off the bed. Her hand closed around one of the broken shards of glass and held it threateningly in front of her.

He swore and laughed, shook it off even as blood trickled down from his forehead. ' **Oh Renee, well done. You saw straight through me. I must say you're almost as impressive as Mr Ambrose.** '

' **What have you done with him?** ' she snarled. She wasn't afraid of hurting Rose. He'd just given her ten thousand reasons to.

' **He's flying high right now.** ' Rose said with a cutting grin. ' **He's more than happy I assure you. In fact, he's probably the most calm he's ever been. I wish you would calm yourself too.** '

' **Calm down? Calm down? You touched me – you fucking touched me!** '

' **You wanted me to Renee.** '

' **No. No. Never.** '

' **But if I was Roman...it would be a yes?** '

Her back hit the wall. ' **Stay away from me!** '

' **Oh Renee,** ' he sighed and wiped at the thin line of blood as if it were just bothersome. The fact that a piece of glass stuck out from his skin didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. ' **I thought we could have been good friends, you and I. But now I can see you just won't be convinced. I thought that if I could give you your heart's desire then you'd open up to me.** ' He looked down at his hand and sniffed his fingers.

Renee gagged. ' **You're sick...you're...** '

' **Mad?** ' Rose completed for her. ' **Oh yes. Quite.** ' He smiled though. ' **But isn't it difficult not to be when the world we live in is full to the brim with insanity?** ' He reached into the pocket of his leather pants. The crotch bulged and she wanted to throw up. He pulled out a lollipop, pulled off the wrapper and placed it in his mouth. ' **I chose to embrace excess and base desires, Renee. Does that make me a bad person? Does it? It's made me a sick man. But I can cure myself, with time and your friend Ambrose's help. This bus, and everything inside it, is an escape. We all want to escape to a fantasy beyond the realms of the Authority's control. These people,** ' he pointed up to the top floor where it seemed the party never ended, ' **they were lost before they found me. I gave them a way out, I gave them happiness...you tasted it Renee. You tasted what happiness is in that bottle. Do you remember how good it was?** '

' **It's nothing but an illusion! A dream! You can't keep them here based on a lie!** '

He flinched as if she'd slapped him. ' **A lie? You call what I have created a lie?** ' his face darkened. ' **I'm the truth! I'm every dark desire that man has ever felt! You think that this is all a lie? When this place and this body and these people and this mind are all the honesty that has ever been felt! The truth is fucked up, Renee.** ' He started toward her.

' **Stay back, stay back!** '

' **Jefferson is coming up Renee. Soon we'll be there. You'll meet some of my friends. You'll see the truth of what I do Renee. And it'll just** _ **kill**_ **you.** '

Something grabbed her from the side. The massive white paws of a white rabbit. She screamed. She struggled. The glass fell from her had as the rabbit's arm closed around her throat, made her gasp for air. Rose was in front of her. His smirk cut her to pieces as he held up a glass bottle, larger than the last, filled to the brim with liquid.

' **Time for your medicine, my little Rosebud.** '


	7. Feral

**((It's been way too long since I updated this. Really, really sorry about that everyone! Please rest assured I fully intend to finish the boys story and it WILL get done! I've unfortunately had to return to hospital, but now that the internet is working it means I can dedicate some time to properly getting these stories done! Please let me know what you think and thank you for your patience!))**

* * *

Brie had turned herself into the designated driver. Beside her, a second pair of eyes, Roman kept his gaze fixed on the road. They'd given Seth the back seats of the jeep to lay down in, to rest, to close his eyes and just be calm...he was everything but. He couldn't fight away the visions that had moved through his head in those moments they thought that he was dead. He was...sure he hadn't been. But then...how did the deceased know at all? He was sure he'd seen things, old memories and ghosts from the past. But maybe that was it. Maybe, in the moment where he was supposed to go, his life had trailed through his brain and out the window as he fell into hell, because he sincerely doubted he could talk his way into heaven after all he'd done through the years.

He stared up at the ceiling of the jeep. Up on the roof, was Cena, with a complete view of the world around them, he'd clambered up there just before they'd set off once again. Jefferson was ahead of them. That place Dean had been invited to, where Renee had followed because she didn't know better. Brie had talked to him – he couldn't forget that conversation if he'd tried, the jealous part of him which wanted to keep the blond woman with him. Knowing, that she had such strong feelings for Roman, it was hard. He shouldn't have dwelled, but when he came to, from that kiss, he'd not pictured Brie, but Renee.

There were hundreds of thousands of faces out there, just as many hearts and souls and he was damned sure he'd never find one like hers again. But...maybe he could keep his feelings close, and he could be happy for her. She'd picked who she wanted – and though he loved his brother – he didn't understand why it was Roman. It was him she'd spent time with; it was him she'd been though calamity with. Roman had been a meeting in a diner, a close call and then nothing but time apart. But, maybe that was just it. Maybe it was the fact that they'd not been together, it had made her think about him more, made her lust after him more.

Or maybe, Seth Rollins was just a bag of bones, better left in the dirt.

That was more likely.

Seth sniffed and slowly, with a grimace, pushed himself up from the lying position to peer out of the window, to the grey world. Cena must have been soaked through, because the rain had resumed, fat raindrops wetting the surface of the black top and smudging the windscreen. He turned his body round. Everything ached, but he was getting there – what he needed was a hot bath, but he'd not seen one of those in a very long time now. He couldn't even really remember what a shower looked like. The closest he'd come was Renee's house when she'd cleaned his wounds as best she could. He must have stunk – they all must have. Maybe it had reached the point where the stench was just so universal they couldn't tell anymore.

Roman seemed to have spotted his movements, and glanced over his shoulder. Those eyes, those perfect dark eyes...he hated and loved them in equal measure. Roman Reigns was a man of few words, a man of action; Seth sincerely doubted he dwelled on the argument they'd had over the woman they both desired. Perhaps Roman was the better man, after all, those eyes were full of concern.

 **'How're you feeling Seth?'**

 **'Shit,'**

 **'Well that's better than dead.'**

Well now he couldn't argue with that could he? Dead...dead was such a final word. It meant the end of everything, no going back, no return. Some people could be dead for a full hour and still be brought back if people acted in their interest, if they had enough will to carry on. Dreams were silenced, the hands of fear parted and all that was left was an infinite freedom, a purgatory to tour, hell to explore and heaven to lounge in the clouds. He didn't know what happened when death occurred...did he? Or was it that there was truly nothing? Nothing waiting on the other side? No loved ones there to welcome you, no demons to torment you no...no nothing. Had he glimpsed just what waited for them when their lives were cut short? None of them would live to grow old. That was why it was dangerous for them to love each other so strongly...that was why it was dangerous, to fall for someone else. Did Roman understand that? Did he feel the passion so strongly that it overrode all common sense?

Seth had never been afraid to die until now. Until he knew just what he would lose...and that nothing waited for him on the other side. ' **Anything is better than dead,'**

Roman didn't answer that. From his pocket, he drew something that shone. It looked to be made from something, a tin. A flower...it was something he'd undoubtedly planned to give to Renee. Back in that bunker, he'd tried to push down how he'd felt for the benefit of her and his brother. There, reflected in that tin rose, he saw just what he'd become, a jealous, stupid fool. And...that was alright, it was ok. He was a human being. They weren't perfect. Roman had forgiven him for his words, and Brie had talked down his ego. Maybe the lust wouldn't go away...but he'd learned his lesson. He'd had his chance, and he'd given her up. He'd died...and now he was back. Maybe there was a God, maybe this second life was a reward for his selflessness before.

 **'When I asked you before, Rome, if you loved her...you didn't answer me.** ' He just needed closure, needed to know he'd done the right thing.

' **Everything I've ever loved...has been hurt, because of me**.' Roman finally muttered. He twisted the tin flower in his fingers, observed how it glinted even in the depths of the storm. The windscreen wipers squeaked and slid across the screen, trying to clear enough space for Brie to see between the raindrops. Above, thunder drummed, and Cena sat oblivious. Dolph – it was the first he'd thought of him in the hours which passed. Buried in that patch of greenery, the freedom fighter had passed in Seth's place. Roman glanced over his shoulder once again, ' **She matters to me, Seth. I want to see her happy and safe, and would do whatever I needed to make sure that she smiled. If that's what love is...then yes, I do.'**

Seth, finally satisfied, glanced once again out of the window. The woodland they passed was a wall of broken trees and dark leaves. He was reminded of Cottonwood and the trials they'd all faced there. Once reunited, Roman had told him what had happened in the hallows of the Wyatt's halls. What Dean had done, that glimpse of the Lunatic breaking out and tasting a man's heart. He was glad he had not had to share in their experience. Many had died on their road back to one another...it was through sheer folly they'd separated once again.

 **'Wait...is that – is that the...'** Brie's eyes squinted and slowly, she brought the vehicle to a halt. There was a great thud from the roof as Cena disembarked. He landed next to Seth's window, his face grim.

 **'What? What's going on?** '

' **Seth stay inside,** ' Roman's voice was heavy as lead. He opened his own door and exited along with Brie.

He wasn't about to be left behind, and though still weak, he opened the passenger door. The rain was ice cold against his skin, blurred his crappy vision even more. There, ahead, something ahead – a robust truck he thought he recognized. So suddenly the cold came from within. Frozen to the spot he could only stare and cling on to the car for support. He saw Brie bend down to pick up something from the grass. It shone in the headlights despite the blood that coated it – the straight razor. The rain could have been refreshing, cleansing, but all it did was fill him with a supreme sense of dread. He stumbled forward, barely kept upright until he came to a halt next to Roman who stared at that razor with that forever calm expression.

' **Someone took them Roman** ,' Brie muttered, ' **Renee didn't go quietly for sure.** ' She turned the razor over in her hands, then wiped the blood on the remains of her skin tight jeans before she closed it and pushed it into her pocket. ' **But we have no way of finding out where**.'

Seth could feel his strength crumble, but before his legs gave out, Roman caught him. He held the thief up as if he were made of nothing at all. His damaged hand closed in a tight fist, his jaw set. There was something in those eyes, an oncoming storm which terrified and elated Seth all in one. It had been long since the big man had displayed such passion. He could feel it grow in his friend's chest, that roar that burst through his mouth and shook the world. He'd not heard it in years – the war cry. Even now it brought up dark memories, stirrings of their former selves. Brie covered her ears, the trees even seemed to quake next to them. Cena had disappeared into the thick woodland, perhaps to use his detective prowess, or hunt for squirrels, it was hard to tell.

' **What do we do? We have to find them** ,' Brie whispered when Roman's anguished yell had ended. The heat that came off him was incredible, each breath hot against the downpour. Within seconds of leaving the vehicle, they'd all soaked through. Roman's long hair was tendrils over his shoulders, and Seth looked at his brother, as if for the first time. In all the years he'd known him...this was rage. This was wrath – the hell hound fire they'd all experienced one time or another. But Roman was too good, too true. Maybe that was why he'd fallen victim to their ploys to join them, he hadn't the heart to leave them behind. But now that shadow in his heat was growing, Seth could feel it, and feared it.

 **'I'm sure this creature will help us!'** Cena suddenly bellowed from the thicket. He emerged only moments later, and dragged someone out after him. Without much care for their health, he tossed them into the damp grass. **'I found her snooping in the trees.'**

Her? The frame was petite enough, but the hood drawn over the face made it impossible to see. Uneasy, Seth crouched down beside her alert figure and carefully pulled it back. His eyes widened as thick, long purple curls fell from where they'd been bundled. Ruby lips and bright eyes and he found himself sat in the grass and just stared.

 **'S-Sasha?'**

She didn't wait to be introduced to anyone else, and quick as a whip she was on her feet. She struck out with enamelled claws and tore scratches down Seth's face. But he barely felt it. The rain kissed the blood and it drew lines down his cheek but he didn't notice. He saw as she fought against his friends, scratched and kicked and bit and tore like the wildcat she was. It was only when she came for him once more, gripped his face in two hands and made to kiss him that he recovered his senses:

 **'Sasha it's me! It's Seth!** '

He closed his eyes.

But the kiss didn't come. Those poisoned lips didn't hit his own and when he opened his eyes again, the rain streamed over her skin and through her hair. Her breathing was a pant, her eyes confused as to why she'd stopped herself, as to why the name meant something to her.

The way she looked at him, as if searching her memory, every single thought that had ever occurred to her for why this was so important. Why she shouldn't kill the man at her mercy. Her hands still gripped his face iron tight, he could feel where her nails dug in.

' **Seth!'** Brie made forward to pull the other woman back but Seth held up his hands.

 **'No don't hurt her!** ' slowly, so very slowly, he placed his rough hands over hers, laced his fingers through hers and held so very tight. ' **Sasha...it's me.'**

The sound of the rain was deafening, the silence from her frightened him, her eyes were diamond hard but...sad? She tried to let go but he held on to her. He couldn't risk her attacking his friends. Brie's straight razor was open, ready to intervene but it's cruel smirk...even Cena and his brother didn't exist outside of the pocket dimension he found himself in with her. He could remember the nights, the few they'd shared in each other's arms, the kisses hot all over her body. He knew every inch of the woman in front of him...but why did she have such trouble remembering his face? Slowly her hard grip on him slackened. The fingers traced down to where she'd hurt him, and her head cocked to one side.

' **Sasha please, say something,** ' he begged. The suspense was too much. But she didn't answer. Her fingers took in every part of his face like her eyes could not see. She felt the sides of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the beard on his chin, ran through his hair. It was only when he started to reciprocate, followed her movements on her own face that something triggered inside of those eyes. The uncertainty bloomed into a smile, eyes full to the brim with wonder. She made for his mouth once again but stopped herself. Sudden sadness enveloped her, and she reached to the scarf tied around her neck, and wiped her lips on the fabric. ' **Sasha?'**

She opened her mouth...but not a word came out.

 **'What's wrong?'** panic took him. If there had been one overriding memory of her, it was the sound of her voice, the venom on her tongue.

She tried again, as if trying to clear her throat, urged something...but no sound escaped her.

 **'I don't think...I don't think she can Seth** ,' Brie crouched down next to the two of them, an unsure hand placed on the other woman's shoulder. Sasha near recoiled from the touch, but was only stilled from hitting out by Seth's quick hand catching hers. Brie's soft eyes glanced over the face and neck. There was something, hidden by that scarf...she reached out but once again Sasha struck out, this time she caught Brie, and threw her whole weight down. The two women hit the floor. Blind rage seemed to have overcome Sasha, and she scratched and tore at Brie, rained down blows with nothing short of complete hatred.

' **Sasha stop!'** Seth heaved her off his friend. Brie's mouth bled, bruises blossomed as the rain touched. **'Brie, I don't know what's come over her!'**

 **'I do,** ' and with that, she tore away the scarf from the other woman's neck. There, a thick, jagged scar slashed her skin, a tear that would have killed her. Brie looked at it with fear and loathing. She looked down at her own straight razor, closed it and returned it to her pocket. **'I think...I think my sister happened to her.'**

At the mention of sister, Sasha blinked, her wild face and tangle of hair could have made her an animal, but the cruel realization that Brie was not the one who had silenced her, caused her to curl back into Seth's grip.

' **What...'**

' **Nikki always said that she hated the sound of some people's voices...that if she could she would rip the boxes from the throats. I've never crossed Sasha, but I have no doubt that they did. Nikki had few tolerances for fellow assassins...and if she's half as good as you think her Seth, I have no doubt my twin attempted to end the competition.'**

Shock, horror, they mingled into one. He looked down at the woman in his arms, the one he'd blindly worshiped so easily only for her to abandon him for her own devices, desires and pay cheque...here she was, the goddess of his memories, silent, untamed, terrified and confused. What had happened to her? How had she survived? Had she been alone, hiding in the woods? She seemed more like an animal than a human. She curiously sniffed at his neck as she nuzzled into it. At least...after all of this, she seemed to know him now. Seemed to trust him; he knew from the moment she wiped the lipstick from her mouth she meant him no harm.

The rain made bedraggled messes of them all. And through it all, their two giants had stood above them and just watched. Cena's eyes were cast down the road, but Roman's were on Sasha, untrusting. He spat to the floor and in two strides was next to Seth. He broke the hold he had over the girl and dragged her to her feet.

' **Did you see where they went?'** he snapped.

 **'Roman let her go!'** Seth clambered to his unsteady legs and attempted to pry her from his brother's grasp. **'Stop!'**

' **Tell me!'** Roman roared. Sasha hung in the air, hissed and buckled against his grip. It was only when Cena laid a calm hand on Roman's arm and shook his head, that the hold slackened. Sasha hit the grass and choked for breath, Seth's protective arms immediately around her. He shot Roman a frozen glare before he returned his attentions to Sasha. She seemed to be alright, though shaken. Her arm stretched out ahead of her. Finger pointed down the road.

' **That way...they went that way?** ' Brie stood slowly and placed herself between the two on the floor and Roman. ' **You shouldn't have done that big dog. I know you're worried about Renee and Dean. So am I. But you could have asked her.'**

 **'She ruins your face and you defend her?** ' he growled.

' **Damn right,** ' Brie folded her arms. ' **After what my sister has done to her she deserves some retribution. But look at her Rome** ,' they all glanced down to where Seth shielded her. ' **She's clearly feral from the woods...from being afraid. That's not a professional assassin anymore...that's a girl whose lost her way. Now back off and back down. She's answered you. Cage the rage before I do it for you.'**

Roman glared at the challenge but Brie was unmoved, unafraid of him.

' **Sasha, were they headed to Jefferson?** ' Seth asked, and carefully moved her hair from those dazzling eyes. A very slow nod answered him. ' **We carry on** ,' he shifted himself so that he could hold her in his arms, and somehow made his way back to his feet. **'She's coming with us**.'

 **'No.'**

 **'You don't have an opinion right now,'** Seth spat and carefully, he made his way back toward the jeep. He didn't know what had encouraged such rage from his brother, but as he looked down at Sasha, and the wonder in her eyes, the full brimmed joy as she touched his beaten up face, mesmerized by him, he had to stop himself from just standing there, lost in the rain and in her aura. She made him feel warm. Perhaps it was the passionate memories...but the fire had not died. Everything he'd felt back then erupted inside of him. He didn't dare kiss her, but dipped his wet forehead to hers, their wet hair matted together. There was so much he wanted to say, wanted to ask...but inside despair clutched the euphoria in a choke hold. No matter what he wished to hear...she would not be able to tell him a single word. The world vanished, and he forgot everyone and everything. Only she existed for those forever seconds. Somewhere, beyond this spot, beyond this moment, Renee and Dean were in trouble, they needed their help. They would have it, but he would not leave Sasha behind. The closest he'd come to happy lay in his arms, and he wouldn't let her go.


	8. Disillusions

**((Greetings! Here is the newest entry into the story of my beloved boys whom I feel bad for being so cruel to. But the world they inhabit is a wicked one. Thank you to everyone so far who has been following Release The Hounds, and please let me know what you think of this chapter!))**

 **SEPTEMBER 18 EXOTIC EXPRESS** En Route to Jefferson, North West Capitol

All of the sounds they seemed to talk. All the music wrapped around and coloured the world with pretty lights and holy voices, they rung through the ears and mocked every thought. They whispered to him, pulled at his bonds, made him want to run, wish for freedom, but everywhere were the lights, keeping him trapped, sugar sweet and tied by the fixation that possessed his blood and numbed him to all except the technicolour noise that beat into his ears. Oh, he knew sounds like these, born during the thunder and the lightning and baptized as an oncoming storm; he never had anything but the sounds, the voices that echoed through a half-rotten brain. The brothers he'd forged in the hell streets of a city called Kennedy seemed so far away, and the blurs of reality and fantasy mixed in a palette he could taste. Oh it tasted too good, like that terrible Special K they punctured him with. There were two Deans, three Deans, four, five – what came after five? There had only ever been up to that many that he'd never learned further – and in the sands so many of them...less than fingers he thought, but who knew?

And here he was again on his own, drowned by wave after wave of empty euphoria as the bodies swathed around him with those animal heads crooked. He saw kings and he saw flamingos and he saw boobs and he saw heels and felt the sting as they didn't see him. Was this Dean invisible now? Was the body he had gone? Stuck? Trapped? Locked up again? Was this the white building all over again? Had the box found him and closed its walls around his body? Was this all some last dream and really he was strapped to the gurney in the box, William Regal about to execute the last of the brain busters and taking any rhyme or reason away? No...he'd escaped. Gone from the claws of one monster to the next. He was a failure. Fucking shit, fucking nothing, scum at the bottom of the sea.

There she was again.

The lady with the red hair. The one they'd run over. He could see her dancing to that endless music, the sounds that he heard in his brain, that savage drum beat of his heart. Could she see him? Did she see him somewhere through the dark and the spotlights? Could she smell his dirty soul and did she see the state of his blood? Could she sense that he was bleeding inside and out knowing that somewhere, somewhere over or under or near or close or so far there was that other person. The pretty one with the short hair, all blond and bristles. She danced real nice, real pretty like. But he knew who she was, and he tried to pull against the wires that held him, but stupid Dean. What was the point? He could run a million miles around the world in a dilapidated boat and she would find him in the ocean. She'd sing to him and pull him over and drown him the black waters. The highest mountain wouldn't be safe. No matter where he could go, the night would follow, the buzzards would follow.

Here she came, closer, closer, the filthiest disease with the kindest kiss. No one else saw her, they were hypnotised by the pretty lights, they danced too but not like she did. She was too light, too perfect, too real. He tried again, pulled uselessly at those bonds as she came even closer, a red queen with dirty teeth. Here she was, drifting, eyes wide, eyes bleeding, mouth agape to swallow him whole again. But flesh hit flesh, lips caught his cheek, and the blackness in her eyes shouldn't have been there.

 **'R-Renee?'**

 **'Perfect isn't she?'** Rose stepped out from behind her, had he been dancing with her? Manipulating her like a vision in the fog? He stood next to Renee, hands on her arms as he dragged his face, his nose and teeth against her face, her vacant expression. Blood stained her lips – had she bitten him? He felt nothing, had she kissed him? Was it lipstick? Not blood...make up or sin? Both? ' **She's strong, but even the gods fall at the feet of my powers and potions,'** he licked Renee's cheek, savouring the taste of her stained skin. He'd dressed her thinly, a skimpy dress that barely covered any part of her. ' **A delicious vamp for the punters of Jefferson...they'll love her. In fact, I'm sure that they'll love her so much they just might persuade me to part with her forever...it would be a shame, but every commodity has a price that can't be refused.'** That fucking lollipop stick jutted from his lips and wobbled with every word. Blurry. His hand shot out, gripped Dean's face tight in strong fingers, **'Look at you Dean...coming back already...a handful of hours from a dosage so high? You're a marvel, a marvel,'** he drew closer, mouth only inches from Dean's, that blasted lolly stick poking his face, **'I can't wait to feed on you Dean...I can only imagine how good it'll taste to have that blood gushing through me. Fascinating, delicious.'**

 **'Let her go,'**

Rose clicked his tongue, ' **But so boring Dean...why would I? I can make money off this pretty little thing. Good money. It does not benefit me in any way to let her go.'**

 **'Please -,'**

 **'Please please please, I beg you! Change the fucking record!'** the same hand which had held him struck the side of his face with such force Dean's head rolled, the headphones knocked loose to land on the floor with a clatter.

And there was nothing...no...no music. No loud sounds no blaring chords and thumping bass. Just the river in his ears, a tinnitus he could not eradicate. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and all he could feel was the cold chill that welled in his stomach, that clawed its way up his throat and formed a cancerous lump in his throat. He peered around, blinked as if seeing for the first time. What...what were the people dancing to? There was no music in here; it was in the tin cans on the floor. They looked lost and vague and seemed to hear something he couldn't.

 **'Why...why are they dancing?'** Dean somehow managed. His eyes darted from one costumed creature to the next, their eyes wide, motions wild. Were they drugged as he had been? Feeding off something else that created that eternal party Rose craved?

Rose glanced over his shoulder at the people, **'Because they want to Dean, because that is what they're compelled to do...there's such sweet music in the air on the bus...and they, and she,'** he stroked Renee's head, ' **all my little rosebuds hear that song in their heart, the anthem which commands that they get up onto their feet, that they dance until they collapse...it's the most beautiful need...'** his eyes were dreamlike, his head rocked to that music he and the others could hear, but Dean could not. **'Can't you hear it?'** Rose asked softly, ' **Do you Dean? Do you hear my song?'** he smirked, ** _'Welcome to the revolution. We'll take it to the streets today...no more disillusions, we will break away!'_** he span in a circle, his hands in Renee's, turning them both round and around, ' **Oh they've broken away Dean...from this world, from reality,'** he pointed at the people behind him, **'I saved them. I gave them this bus, this world where they can be happy and laugh and smile and dance forever and ever...'**

 **'But it's not real,'**

 **'Real? What do you know about real?'** Rose snarled and gripped Renee close to him, **'who are you to judge Dean Ambrose? You're mad, mad as the rest of us. I see it in your eyes and heard it when you dreamed, you talked of buzzards and the world burning, you talked of destruction and annihilation. And you Dean...you are not sane. The man who becomes the Lunatic will never be sane,'** he started to step back with Renee. **'Only another hour or so Dean, and then we kiss this pretty thing goodbye forever.'** He kissed her cheek. She didn't even seem to know he was there. The whole time, her eyes had been fixed on Dean, blank. Eyes on Dean...like AJ had before...before...

 **'Renee -,'** he pulled against the strings that bound. Tugged and strained and fought and tried to make his way to her. He had to look after her, he had to keep her a-ok for Roman. She was Roman's girl. He was a bad brother if she got hurt. Too many got hurt. His AJ slept under starry skies because he'd loved her too much and what would happen now to Renee because he failed to do anything...was this what happened to the women he loved? He cared, she cared. She mattered. Roman loved her – he'd seen it in Superman's eyes. Gotta do something. Gotta get free. Gotta help.

 **'That's enough of that Ambrose,'** Rose snarled. He leaned forward, past Dean's range and gripped that small button. **'Let's see how much fight you have missing a few litres of that candy blood,'** his thumb pressed down.

He could almost feel it. His head turned in panic, the cannula in his arm drew that rich, dirty red stuff from his body with ease, the blood swarmed through the tube attached and disappeared away from vision. The speed of it was what hurt. He felt it drain, felt his skin pale, his legs shake. He tried to stand, tried to keep his eyes on Renee as the sweat ran down his face, as his knees gave and he hung there, suspended by those bound arms.

 **'R-R-Renee...you gotta run,'** his voice was dry as his throat. His mind swam; the world underwater. **'Gotta...get back to Rome...I gotta...look...after...Renee...can't...let...another...star...die...'**

Those blank eyes seemed to look straight through him. Maybe it was because everything was fading, but then, just then, something inky black from the liner round her eyes trailed down her cheek. And again, another, another, blotted spider legs down her face. Hardness was softness...she was in there.

Even through the gleeful laughs of Rose, he could see her, he could see her and smell her and oh hell he could feel her. She didn't have to touch him for him to know the pain and the agony, the fear of being trapped inside the cage of the mind. The howls and the wilds would torment and torture through the bars and laugh and tease. They'd linger and threaten your sanity until there was nothing left but to laugh too. His breathing laboured, his eyes started to close.

 **'Nothing...is b-bigger than...than Renee...'**

 **'Enough Ambrose,'** Rose snapped. He released the button. It did nothing to ease the drift; nothing to rouse him back to consciousness. ' **Plenty of wine for me to try,'** he licked his dry lips. His leathery skin had no glow, even under the lights, and even the prospect of more life didn't seem enough to bring a spark to his eye. **'Enough to transfer to me for now, to see what qualities this blood has!'** In his excitement, he didn't seem to see a pale hand touch a female face, to feel the tears that had fallen and to look at the smudged ink on the finger tips; to rub it tenderly together between thumb and forefinger, trying to see, trying to understand...those words. ' **Come my little rosebud...let leave this pitiful creature.'** Rose's thumbs smudged away the fallen tears thoughtlessly. **'I must sample the merchandise before I give it to the cretins in Jefferson...'** his hands drifted down from her face, to her shoulders, her breasts, hips, it was when he turned her, ceased her and kissed her, tongue infiltrating her mouth that her eyes widened.

 _Nothing is bigger...Seth._

 _Nothing is bigger than you...Roman._

 _Nothing is bigger than Renee..Dean._

Her...her boys; the Shield...from how she was held, she could see Dean, really see him, crucified in those cables. She shook, fear and rage possessed her and with venom and hatred rolled into a supreme violent urge, she bit down. Hard.

Rose screamed, buckled against her hold but she didn't let up. There was a horrific tearing sound as his tongue came away in her mouth. She spat it to the floor as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his lips. Her eyes fell over what she was wearing. The people who had danced had stopped and they stared at what was happening. At the man who had been harmed by the vampire. No. He was the vampire, washed up and too afraid to die from his years of pointless absorbed abuse. Gluttony had two faces and vanity had been his grave undoing. Renee longed for that razor to be in her hand. But it was gone. She looked at her hands, empty, those gloves she'd grown to love so much had been removed – was this what her palms looked like? She'd forgotten...

A squeal of pain from Rose brought him back to her attention. She didn't need studded gloves then and there. She drew back her fist with such force that when it collided with Rose's face, he hit the floor, blood bursting from his nose. The black vinyl floor squeaked as he tried to shimmy his body away from her. But she advanced, heavy breathed, eyes fixated on the violator. Fire burned in her eyes, was this that bloodlust she'd seen in the faces of her friends? Was this that endless desire to maim and murder that Dean battled with? It tasted bitter and cold, but intoxicated her. Rose tried to plead, a defenceless human now that he'd been robbed of his voice. His hand scrambled for his pocket, searching for that dust he used on Dean...or another needle to put her to sleep. But no magic potion would quell the beast rising inside of her.

He came to a sudden halt, path blocked by a pair of white, fluffy feet. Rose and Renee looked up at the figure which stared emptily down at the fallen man. Rose's hand blocked the blood flow, but prevented the cry when the rabbit produced a needle of its own. Its contents were thick, purple, and it made her want to retch. Rose flailed and attempted escape but found hands pinning him down, the flamingo had a hold of his head and snapped it to one side, allowing the rabbit access to the throat. Renee didn't stop him, didn't attempt to, even when she saw the point sink through the skin, even as Rose's panicked eyes begged for her help. She watched as every last drop was injected into him. The costumed partiers let him slump to the floor, masked faces cocked. His eyes were wide, his body convulsed, mouth frothed red foam, then...he stopped.

 **'Is he dead?'** she asked bluntly.

But the rabbit shook its head very slowly. It dropped the syringe to the floor, it reached up to pull off the massive white rabbit head from its shoulders. Below was a handsome, if exhausted and dishevelled face, eyes were red raw from too long awake, too many hits of the same drug. It was as if the March Hare had been within that rabbit suit, waiting to come out with its own brand of madness. He seemed nervous, twitchy, like he'd not taken the mask off in years...and the horrible thought occurred to her, that he probably hadn't. One by one, people started to reach for the masks, or tried to undo the knotted smiles they'd worn for too long. The last, the most reluctant, seemed the flamingo. Renee eased closer to her, made to help her, but she slapped her hands away from her hat. Her face wasn't clear through the makeup. But now that cruel smile that seemed to have been carved into her skin was gone. It had collapsed as Rose had.

 **'What will you do with him?'** Renee turned her attention back on the man within the rabbit suit. His hair was blinding copper, something she found herself immediately jealous of.

The rabbit almost didn't seem to hear her, and bent down very slowly to where Rose lay. Almost tenderly, he picked up the other man and stood, looked him over and started to walk toward the other end of the bus.

 **'Hey, wait. Where are you all going?'** Renee's hand was stretched out toward them, but they ignored her. It seemed almost a funeral possession, as if they were actually mourning this monster. Could they not recognize the control he'd had over them all? Had they administered the strange potion to torture him, or to save him? The curls of fog from the smoke machine licked among the disco lights and she found herself alone, alone as they descended to the lower level. But the flamingo lingered at the top of the stairs, stared at her in such a curious manner before she took left. Renee stood, her hands curled into shaking fists. What had just transpired? What even was going on? The ripped remains of the blue dress she'd been forced into stuck to her skin. Her breathing felt too heavy. The black bow that had been tied around her head was thrown to the floor. She turned her back on them, and finally, seemed to see Dean. **'Dean?'** alarm brought her to his side. His squalid pallor was deathly sick to look at. His eyes were hollow, like they'd sunk even further back into his skull. Her fingers traced the cannula on his arm – she contemplated ripping it straight out, but then, she followed the pipe leading from it. It split into three bags, each containing a heavy dose of Dean's blood. The urge to vomit welled in her throat but she swallowed it down. Dean couldn't survive on so little of the red stuff. His legacy of being impossible to kill...even Dean Ambrose could die. Frantic she gripped each of the bags from the small hooks they hung on. Stacked up around the man were crates, the sort which carried expensive musical equipment. With a grunt of effort she clambered up onto one, keeping those blood bags close to her chest. As soon as she was higher than him, she, with those bags gripped tight in her teeth, worked each one onto the wires binding Dean. As soon as she did, she could already see the blood running back through the pipe to his arm. She could only hope she wasn't too late.

 **'Dean, come on baby, you gotta wake up for me,'** she whispered. She found the floor once again, and took his face in her hands, ' **Please Dean...you...you can't die. What would I do if you did?'** what would Roman say? Seth? They'd be...they'd never talk to her again, they'd hate her, deservedly so for allowing their little brother, their precious Ambrose to fall away. She'd gone on this journey to keep him safe. Drop by drop the blood welled back into his veins. She checked for his pulse, watched his shallow breathing. **'Please Dean -,'** she pulled him against her into an embrace so tight she thought that he might break. For someone indestructible...he felt so fragile. She closed her eyes, and because she couldn't think of anything else, Renee Young closed her eyes and started to pray.


	9. From The Lips Of A Woman

**SEPTEMBER 18** En route to Jefferson, North West Capitol

Roman wouldn't look at him, wouldn't look at her, wouldn't talk, just stared out of the window. Cena had taken up permanent residence on the roof as look out, Brie remained steadfast behind the wheel of their faithful jeep and Seth sat in the back, an exhausted Sasha asleep, nestled against him like he was comfiest of all cushions. The sudden exuberance of being reunited with her had failed now, that sudden rosy glow of his memories had settled to a musky haze and he looked her over, knowing full well that she was no longer the woman he'd known those years ago. Back when the Shield had run the streets of Kennedy, the assassins had been frequently sent after them. Sasha Banks, the Purple Poisoner herself, had been sent after him.

The way she caught her targets was by seducing them.

And he would have joined the ranks of the dead, if he hadn't known who she was.

But when, wrapped up in passion and tangled in the sheets, she'd applied that toxic lipstick, she'd made to kiss him, he'd caught her face, he'd looked into her eyes. No words had passed in that moment, but she'd stopped. Caught in a moment that could have ended her reputation as one of the best assassins in Capitol, she'd smudged the wax onto those sheets instead of his lips. Their love making had continued until the dawn. When he'd fallen asleep from exhaustion, she'd left him. A lock of his hair snipped off and just the smell of her perfume and lipstick stain for him to remember her by.

Here she was again. Her memory of that night had saved him. His memory of her had protected her. Seth idly stroked those purple locks. The strong, independent, feisty, vocal woman of his memories had been reduced to an animal in the woods. Her voice, snatched, her confidence taken, her mind...gone. He could recall a time, when he'd told Dean about Sasha, about the way she'd made him feel for their few short hours together. His brother, as he always did, had seen it for what it was, the truth of it all.

 _The tastiest things are never good for us, right bro?_

Brie had defended what Sasha had tried to do, because she knew what her sister was capable of, what she was like. Brie had changed since they'd all come together, had left behind a life she didn't care for to help them. She was working towards getting back to her husband. Roman was trying to find Renee. He...didn't really know why Cena stayed with them. Perhaps it was his sense of justice, maybe he just liked them. Seth wanted to take down the Authority. He wanted to get Dean back. Did he want justice for what had happened to Sasha?

No.

Would he stop her if they encountered Nikki again on their travels and she attempted to enact some kind of retribution for what had been done to her?

No.

' **Hey Brie** ,'

The deadly beauty in the front seat looked up to him in the rear view mirror, ' **Seth?** '

' **Why does your sister like to kill so much...why is she so full of anger that she'd slash someone's throat, for the sound of their voice?'**

It seemed like an obscure question to ask perhaps, but she looked contemplative.

' **I think...because she lost her love like I did. She was always more animated, more wanting for change. Coming from Buchanan does that to you. But her desire for something better came with a need to commit violence. It...Wasn't so bad until she lost her lover, she really started down a dark path then**.'

' **Who was he?** '

' **A good man, that's all I really know. A copper – she'd been sent to kill him, I think, or he stopped her from killing someone else. He was kind to her, rather than judgement, rather than prosecuting. She found him entertaining, fun, a game developed between them. A love I'm sure she'll never forget. But he died...or disappeared. Now that I know Bryan still lives I don't know the difference between the two anymore**.'

' **Do you think he's still out there?** '

' **I could hope.** '

' **Do you think if they found each other again she'd cool it with the killing spree?** '

Brie shrugged. She gave him no other answer than that. It must have been difficult, having a twin sister so similar in so many ways, but so vastly different. It must have felt like she didn't even know her anymore, especially after how they'd fought. One day, he was sure, Brie and Nikki would encounter one another again. He didn't know how it would end. He didn't want to guess.

He glanced once more down to Sasha's sleeping form. She looked very peaceful, like a cat curled up next to a fire.

' **Who are you now Sasha?** ' he muttered, so quietly he almost didn't hear himself.

But Roman did.

' **She's a murderer from the past who tried to fuck you to death, Seth**.'

' **We're all murderers in here Rome,** ' Brie coldly reminded him. ' **Don't you dare pass judgement Big Dog, you have no right to that holier than thou attitude**.'

' **What's your problem Rome?** ' Seth was honestly astounded at the cold reception his brother seemed to have for everyone and everything right then.

' **No problem.** '

' **Fuckin' liar,** '

' **Just leave it Seth** ,'

' **No!** ' Seth kicked the back of his brother's seat irritably, **'Is this even about Sasha? Is it because you're scared about what could have happened to Dean and Renee? You're not alone, I'm scared too, but I'm not taking it out on my friends, on people who need our help. They're in trouble, we know that, but we'll find them, we'll help them. Capitol is fucked, the whole state is fucked, but we've been through worse than this and found one another again**.'

Roman didn't answer, just stared out the cracked window, caught in his mood.

There was a pounding on the roof for them to slow down. Brie pressed her foot onto the brake and eased the jeep to a gentle stop, so as not to wake Sasha.

' **What's up John?** '

The head of the former copper swung in to view, upside down through the windscreen. He looked particularly cheerful, quite rare considering how serious he usually looked.

' **Can't you hear it?** '

' **Hear what?** '

' **There's a party bus, or something like that, up ahead. Think we should go crash the fun? Huh? Shall we party? What do you think? We could do with a party. Let hair down and all that comes with it?** '

All the awake occupants of the car peered through that windscreen and tried to see where this magical bus was supposed to be. There was not another vehicle in sight. The road was straight and they could see miles ahead. But...nothing.

' **You seeing things Cena?** ' Seth shouted up to the man on the roof.

' **Hearing things! Listen!** '

Not convinced, Seth sighed and leaned out the non-existent window next to him. He slid his long hair behind his ear and strained to hear something, anything. He didn't expect for there to be any sound apart from the wind, perhaps a few birds maybe some gun shots aimed in their general direction. But then, the harder he listened...he thought he could hear something; some unnatural, electronic beat, like a pulse beneath the road, somewhere in the distance.

' **That sounds...close,** '

' **A few miles away I think** ,' Cena announced, clearly pleased with himself for noticing.

Roman, finally, after ignoring Seth for what seemed like hours, turned in his seat, one arm hooked over its back to face his brother. The look in his eyes was pained, like there was a broken man hiding behind the strength of the Shield. He was harbouring a lot of emotion he couldn't let out and Seth quietly realised that this wasn't just about Sasha, this wasn't just about Renee or Dean, this was everything they'd been through. This was running through Buchanan sands as they blew up around them, this was carrying his dead body through bullet hail. This was letting people go, seeing people die, thinking that there was nothing left.

This was...the true Roman Reigns, the man behind the goliath; the man behind Superman.

' **Do you think it's them?** '

' **We can find out,** ' Seth nodded slowly, ashamed of himself for his rage. He always thought he understood Roman, but he was still learning about his brother, more and more every single day. ' **It's on the road to Jefferson**.'

Roman stiffly bobbed his head before he did the same to Brie. She started that rumbling jeep up once more, and started them down the road again.

The Big Dog glanced down to where Sasha slept, studied her with a quiet apprehension, concern. ' **She suits you Seth,** '

Seth blinked at his brother. Seeing the young assassin again may have roused some strong feelings, but they were memories, beats of the heart urged from years gone by. Only hours had passed between their fight over Renee. Did he think that he had moved on so quickly from those kinds of emotions? He couldn't do that. He cared too much. Perhaps...that was the curse of the Shield, all three of them loved too easily, cared too much, let themselves get hurt and turn on one another because all they wanted was a piece of happiness that wasn't so easily given or afforded. They were wanted men. That kind of life was not well suited to romance. Renee had saved them all in turn, she'd worked her way into their ranks and their hearts. What he felt for her wouldn't disappear so easily – but he still did not know just how strongly he felt for her. What type of adoration was it? Brotherly? Did he want her as a lover did? The more he thought about it the more confused he became.

His chance had gone. Roman belonged to her affections, not him. He looked down to Sasha. There could never have been any confusing of the feelings he'd once had for her.

She was still beautiful. Wild, chaotic, broken, tired and untamed, but beautiful; he had seen her spirit in her eyes when she'd attacked, he'd seen the familiarity in her smile when she'd felt the shape of his face. Perhaps...if she stayed, if time went by, if they survived, maybe something might grow from the ashes of their past. Perhaps.

But Seth knew he couldn't allow himself to love too easily.

It went wrong. He knew that now.

Instead, he could love to protect, rather than to serve himself.

Yes, he looked down at Sasha fondly. This girl didn't need him to Shield her, but he'd help her if he could. Just like he would aid his brothers, Renee, Brie, Cena...any other allies they made on their journey. If they managed to find Dean and Renee on the road to Jefferson, that would be a success. But then they would continue on the way, to find Cesaro, to rescue him from the predicament that he was in. The man was not their ally, but they could buy his favour if they helped him win back his underground fighting rings.

' **Rome – why do we fight so much?** '

' **Because you care,** ' Brie interceded, there was a small smile on her lips, which she concealed as best she could by biting the lower. ' **It's because you're brothers. That's what siblings do...to show they care, because saying I love you doesn't express just how much you matter to each other. You hate the qualities the other has because you admire them so much and you want them to be yours, you would kill for each other, but you'd kill each other for doing something stupid. You'd die for each other, but you'd threaten death on them because you'd rather you hurt them than someone else**.'

So that's what it was. It all made sense, from the lips of a woman.


	10. Lay Down And Die

**((Hello everybody! Thank you so much for your patience so far with my updating! I'm certainly hoping to get to it more regularly. We've reached over 1,500 views for this story! I'm so honoured people have stayed with me and love you all for your dedication. Please remember to spread the word! It would be wonderful if you could let me know your thoughts in the reviews! Have an excellent Tuesday!))**

 **SEPTEMBER 18 EXOTIC EXPRESS** || En route to Jefferson, North West Capitol

The bus was quiet now. Only the dull thud of her own hopeful heart throbbed in her ears. Dean was unmoving, slumped, the occasional twitch the only hint to her that he was alive. His breathing was so shallow. His face so pale...the energy, the marvellous lunacy that had made her adore him the way she did had evaporated as quickly as the smoke from the machines had dispersed. Here, in a messed up wonderland, where madness reigned...the Lunatic Fringe seemed on the edge of life and death. Her frenzied attempts to wake him, to rouse him had all failed. Now...she sat with him, holding his hand as the last of the bloods drained back into his body. It was strange, she'd seen the scars and the patchwork of his skin before...but she'd never actually looked at his frame. He was...much smaller than his brothers – like he'd not eaten for an entire year. He felt bony, but strong, he felt fragile but unbreakable. Just what was Dean Ambrose?

Conditioned by every terrible thing that had happened to him...warped by his time in the asylum...out of the Shield, she knew him the least. Only what she'd been told. Much of Dean was a mystery to her. He didn't talk about himself, not really, focused only on the wellbeing of those around him, and tearing everyone else apart. Renee rested her head against the concave of his chest, her smudged eyes closed, her ear listening, listening for the heartbeat she prayed was still going. But...but what surprised her...was what she felt when she was met with its shallow pulse. She'd run out of sadness. She'd run out of grief and fear.

She felt anger, rage. At...at _everything_ , _everyone_. This was not how her life was supposed to go. She'd got a kick out of it all, a thrill that had carried her through every nightmare she'd encountered and now she was out of adrenaline. Every encounter had made her stronger, every fight she'd come out of better. But this...this was exhausting. This was heartbreaking. Dean looked...he looked as if...he'd just stopped. Like he'd given up when she knew he'd fought endlessly for so very long. He wasn't the kind of man who would just lay down and die. He had more demons than the rest of them. Roman was a pillar of strength, Seth was a smartass who knew what to do...Dean...Dean was the child. The untamed ravenous child who needed more love than everyone else.

She touched his face tenderly, felt the roughness of his stumble, the outline of his jaw. He smelt like a rotting corpse, the sweat sheen on his skin made her feel nauseous and disgusted. Disgusted at what had happened here, to him...to her. Was this about Dean?

No. This was about her. What had happened to her, she couldn't remember what had happened after the potion in the lower levels. She didn't know what Adam Rose had done to her. She knew he'd touched her. She felt violated. Dirty. Dirtier than Dean's barely breathing corpse. She looked around the bus and hated every chrome inch. She hated Adam Rose. She hated the costumed people. She hated Dean for needing her in this moment. She wanted to destroy, to kill; she had the urge still at the back of her throat where she'd accidentally swallowed some of Rose's decaying blood. There was a heaviness inside the pit of her stomach, a cancerous lump that threatened to swallow her whole. She didn't know how to feel. Didn't know what to do. She couldn't be strong enough to walk away from all of this.

She wasn't the boys from the Shield. No matter what she tried to tell herself, or what they told her, she wasn't a soldier. As much as she told herself she was, she wasn't good at dealing with trauma, she wasn't immune to death. It had been fine when she'd been an observer. It had been ok travelling through Capitol avoiding peril as best they could because it had all been so...impersonal. It had been about keeping the family together. It had been about the boys journey. Now it was about their vendetta. But what had happened here...it had nothing to do with any of it. It had nothing to do with this incredible journey.

It had been one man, one sick twist who'd taken a fancy at ruining lives.

Renee shuddered against Dean's body. He felt...warm, if only because of the heat from the equipment behind him. She'd released his bonds and now, as the last drops of blood fell back into his veins, she swallowed and moved into position to pull the cannular free from his arm. It was...easy, smooth. The sharp little needle was so...surgical. It was almost fascinating. A wicked little stab could save or wound.

' **Dean?** ' she bit her busted bottom lip. ' **Dean? Can you hear me?** '

She reached out, tried to find a pulse in his throat.

' **You're...c-cold,** ' his faint murmur gave her both elation and annoyance. How long had he been conscious? How long had he let her sit there and wallow in this spiteful misery? Did he know what she was feeling? Of course he didn't. He didn't understand. No one would ever understand how she felt in this moment. Renee sat back and glared at him as his bruised eyes flickered against the disco lights.

' **Yes Dean, yes I'm fucking cold alright? I've been sat here, watching over your unconscious ass, scared out of my wits that you might die on me.** '

Had he been awake this whole time?

Bastard, utter, utter bastard.

He struggled to sit up. She didn't move to help. He could do it by himself. Fuck him.

When he finally opened his eyes, as wide as they'd go, still sore from the dust blown into his face, they fell onto her.

' **You...look angry.** '

' **Do I? Do I Dean? Well fucking done. Thanks for noticing.** ' He deserved this. He'd scared her. He'd let her sit there all this time fearing about whether or not he survived. He didn't come and save her when Rose was touching her. He didn't come and find her. He'd abandoned her. She didn't care that he'd been a prisoner too. She didn't care that he couldn't have done anything. She...she'd been alone. For...for the first time since finding Seth...she'd been on her own. She'd been on her own and she'd not been able to cope. She'd not been strong enough to fight back. She'd...she'd failed, because she was alone. No Shield to protect her. No Brie to have her back, no Cena as look out.

He didn't seem to hear her shaking voice. He didn't seem to hear her spiteful voice. Slowly, he reached out a shaking head. He looked so weak...so vulnerable. But in that moment, where he should have been defending himself, thinking of himself, begging for her help...he reached out and touched her face as tenderly as a lover. It shocked her. She froze as he used all the strength he had, to pull her down against his chest, to hold her close. His hands locked together, kept her there, inside his arms...safe.

She cried then. He didn't have to say a word...she'd been wrong. He understood. He knew. Out of all of them...he knew best. He'd been abused and violated in the worst kinds of ways over the years. It was all there in his embrace. She cried and she howled and she gripped his skin, her arms tight around his exposed torso. Her tears salted his wounds but he let her...he didn't say a single word, just let her cry. After what seemed like hours had passed...his shaking fingers stroked her bristly head. He placed a tender, bloody kiss against her forehead. Eyes watered, nose running, make up smeared and mouth dry with Rose's blood, she sniffed and peered at him, at those dark eyes that saw everything.

He saw, he knew. Dean Ambrose was considered a lunatic. A madman. But he knew the world...he saw it so simply, so easily. He understood what others couldn't.

He was special.

Was that why they'd been so invested in destroying him in the asylum? Was that why the Wyatt's had wanted to possess him so completely? Was that why...the Shield needed him? Out of all of them, for the terrible acts he committed, for the horrific things he'd done...Dean Ambrose was the humanity of the Shield.

' **Dean...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...** ' she barely managed the words. They tasted so bitter but felt so...needed. She had to apologise, for more than what she'd said out loud.

 _Nothing is bigger_...that turn of phrase would haunt her until she was dead and buried in her grave. What if that day came sooner than she anticipated? She couldn't rely on the boys to keep her safe...because no matter what she'd considered in days past...her fighting was scrappy. She was untrained, unsure. She fought because she reacted. She needed to know more, be better. Dean looked like shit, he looked terrible, no doubt he felt it too. But...perhaps...of all of them...she could learn the most from him.

She closed her eyes, exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into his sticky, sweaty, smelly body...loving every single inch of it in that moment. He rested his head against hers and she felt safe, wanted. No one would hurt her if Dean was there. He wouldn't let them, even like this.

Dean himself...he stared ahead, empty bodied, empty eyed, seeing only the woman with red hair, swaying, dancing to the non-existent music, those bleeding, lidless eyes far too wide. Those teeth yellowed, dirty, rotting, her outer beauty didn't match the inside. He could almost see the maggots between her fingers and toes, feasting on the dead flesh inside. She swayed for him. Danced seductively for him...and all around her were the buzzards. She was closer than before.

Every time he saw her...she was closer.

He swallowed, scrunched his eyes tight and willed her away as best he could. When he opened them, blurry, confused and unfocused, she'd gone. For now...he was...no fool. People laughed about his lunacy, they called him names and gave him titles and knew he'd fight to the death for what mattered to him. But he was no fool. He was smart, he saw things different. He knew...and he knew the closer Renee came to him...the closer Abigail came too.

He couldn't be weak. He had to be strong.

There was dullness to his heartbeat as he looked down at the now slumbering sister against him. She was family. He wouldn't let Abigail take her away. He wouldn't let it happen. He'd not lose another star. He was thirsty, hungry, exhausted, he needed to sleep but if he slept he might not wake up again. Had to stay awake. If he slept...he might die. Couldn't die, too much to do, too many people to fight. had to get to the pits to save the biscuit. Had to get all the things done so that Superman could sit on his shiny throne like he should have done.

He hit his head back against the speaker behind him, irritated at his own mortality. But as he did, something balanced atop fell down, down into his lap. He cocked his head, tried to focus on it. A syringe. He didn't need to know what was inside. He could almost taste it. He took it in a shaking fist. He could...he could take it right now and the world would feel better for an hour. He would feel so light. He would feel so calm, but then it would be gone. He'd feel worse, worse than worse. The sweet special K could make everything better, but when it left him...everything that remained would be less shiny.

Dean tried to swallow his dry throat wet. He looked at that syringe.

There was a thud -


End file.
